


PruMano 100 Day OTP Challenge

by TheSupernova



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Human Names, M/M, OTP 100 Prompt Challenge, Past Spamano, Prumano - Freeform, Romance, gerita - Freeform, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 89
Words: 88,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSupernova/pseuds/TheSupernova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of interconnected drabbles focusing on Prussia's and Romano's developing relationship. There's laughs, tears and more than a few curses from our favourite Italian. Each chapter is based on a different prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino is definitely not happy about what he's feeling.

Lovino wasn’t exactly thrilled when he first realised it. He’s just been through a major breakup, he was drunk off his ass, and quite frankly 3am on a Saturday morning just wasn’t the time to be having earth-shattering realisations like this. As much as he tried to deny it, there wasn’t any getting around it.

Lovino Vargas had a crush on Gilbert Beilschmidt.

The thought that he might actually _like_ the Germanic nation was accompanied by quite a few choice words and whatever items were handy being thrown around out of sheer desperation. He tried to talk himself out of it, he really did. But the more Lovino tried to convince himself otherwise, the more he thought about the Prussian, and the more he just had to accept it.

If asked, Lovino could remember the exact moment it had happened. Even if he wasn’t admitting that it _had_ happened yet. It’d been after the last day of a world meeting. Alfred had suggested celebrating, and after some convincing, Arthur had suggested a nightclub nearby. It had seemed like a great idea at the time. Now, sitting alone at a bar on a rooftop terrace, Lovino had no idea why he’d agreed to this in the first place.

 _Because drinking makes you forget,_ he thought, ordering another beer. It wasn’t what he normally drank, but anything else brought back too many memories that he wasn’t in the mood to deal with. As it was, he was trying desperately to ignore Antonio flirting with every fucking chick that crossed his path. Trying to act like it didn’t hurt. They were over, Lovino got it, did Antonio have to rub it in his face every damn chance he got?

When the Spaniard sidled up to the bar, a giggling brunette hanging off his arm,  it’d been a no brained. Lovino slammed the rest of his drink and stormed off. That was when he’d seen him.

Gilbert stood on the edge of the terrace, leaning against the railing and staring out at the city sprawled before him. They’d talked before, never really hung out though. It was kind of weird that the Prussian wasn’t out dancing with whoever he could find.

 _Like Antonio_ , that ugly little voice in Lovino’s head reminded him.

Swaying slightly on his feet, Lovino made his way over to where Gilbert stood. Noticing the Italian, Gilbert arched a brow at him and stepped aside obligingly. The gesture was pointless, there was enough room either way, but Lovino grunted his unspoken thanks at the invitation. While Gilbert turned back to the view, Lovino leaned back against the railing, staring back into the club. Antonio was impossible to miss. He’d made his way onto the dancefloor, the brunette girl held close to his chest as they swayed in time to the beat. It made Lovino want to puke, instead he settled for swearing under his breath. Gilbert turned at the sound, following his gaze to Antonio.

“If it’s pissing you off, stop looking at it,” Gilbert said. He found himself ducking out of the way of a first half-heartedly aimed at his shoulder.

“Shut up, potato bastard.” Lovino attempted to sneer, but it came out as more of a sigh.

The Italian just didn’t understand why it was this hard. He’d been the one to end things, right? So why did he seem to be taking it the hardest? This had been what he wanted, to no longer be Antonio’s plaything. And yet here he was, Antonio’s still playing with his emotions even after he’d broken things off.

Lovino rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly regretting the beers, coming to the club, his decision. Everything he’d done seemed like a bad idea now.

“Lovino?” Gilbert asked, nudging the smaller nation with his elbow. It did little to gain the Italian’s attention.

Shrugging, Gilbert turned away. Lovino knew he was pretty shitty company right now, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He was too hammered, too pissed, too damn fed up with everything to even try and hold a conversation anymore. Still, he managed to be somewhat glad that at least _someone_ was trying to cheer him up, even if it was Prussia. And even if he was doing a shit job at it.

Gilbert made a noise like he was going to say something, but changed his mind. Lovino looked up, expecting him to try again at whatever he’d been about to say. If he had, Lovino probably wouldn’t have noticed. He was suddenly too caught up in noticing that Gilbert was actually kind of… _attractive_. If he’d been as sappy or romantic as his _fratello_ , Lovino probably would have spewed some poetic bullshit about how his hair shone silver in the moonlight, or how his eyes were brighter and more alive than his country had ever been. But he wasn’t Feliciano, and he didn’t think those things. Not at all.

His first reaction, besides attempting to squash the sudden realisation into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind, was to throw himself over the metal railing to his inevitable death. Clearly he was going insane.

Lovino ended up not throwing himself off of the roof, as appealing as the idea sounded to his alcohol-fogged brain. He made his excuses, something about it being late and his flight being early, and left. He needed to get away, from the lights and the music and the constant reminder that was Antonio.

That was how Lovino ended up drunk, lost and pissed as all hell at 3am on a Saturday morning in London. His sense of direction had disappeared somewhere around the fourth drink. Any unfortunate residents living in the area were almost certainly woken up by the vulgar Italian cursing ringing from Lovino’s mouth, but he was too far gone to care anymore. His fists met with more than a few brick walls as he took out his anger on whatever he could find.

A part of him wanted to believe that this was just the beer thinking, that it was just the lights and the alcohol and the breakup. Lovino wanted to believe that it was just Gilbert, that he was going crazy and that he was just confused.

He’d just broken up with Antonio, for fuck’s sakes. How _stupido_ could he get?

Eventually he found the hotel, collapsing onto his bed after a good five minutes of trying to unlock the door with shaking hands and blurred vision. He thanked whoever had organised the accommodation that he was in a separate room from his _fratello_. Feliciano was all he needed to deal with right now.

As he fell asleep, pulled under by alcohol and exhaustion, there was only one thought in his mind. The more he thought about it, the worse his situation seemed to get. He was really only certain about one thing anymore.

Lovino Vargas could _not_ have feelings for Gilbert Beilschmidt.


	2. Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert remembers helping Antonio after the breakup, and the guilt he felt when he realised what it meant.

They were neither of them beautiful, inside or out. They were both too loud, too vulgar and obnoxious, for anyone to see the beauty in them. That didn’t stop them from seeing the beauty in each other.

Gilbert had known for a long time. When he finally realised why he was always so drawn to the foul-mouthed Italian, it seemed so obvious he could’ve kicked himself.  If it’d been anyone else he would’ve gone for it, dropped a few hints or even flat out offered to buy them a drink. But it was _Lovino_.

Which meant there was the problem of Antonio.

Lovino practically belonged to Antonio. He always had. Gilbert knew exactly what would happen if he tried anything with Lovino, and he didn’t want to:  
a) Lose one of his best friends over something stupid or  
b) Piss Spain off.

The image of Antonio in his conquistador days still gave many powerful nations nightmares today, centuries later. How would they treat him now, Gilbert wondered, if they knew that part of him still lurked so close beneath the surface? Besides, it was Lovino, he probably wanted nothing to do with the Prussian.

But Gilbert wasn’t one to let something as girly as feelings get him down. He was awesome enough to get whatever (or whoever) he wanted. He could deal with a few unrequited feelings every now and then. It was only a matter of time before he’d almost forgotten about it completely.

Then came the breakup.

It had seemed like a pretty normal afternoon when Gilbert arrived at Spain’s house. He’d had some spare time and decided to surprise his friend (and maybe sneak a few glances at a feisty Italian, if he was around). Antonio was sitting out back, on the steps leading up to his deck, head in his hands and skin shining with sweat. To Gilbert, it looked like he was just catching his breath after tending to his precious tomato plants.

“Yo Spain, the Awesome One decided to pay you a visit!” Gilbert announced loudly, “aren’t you lucky?”

Antonio completely ignored him, not even bothering to lift his head from his hands. That was when Gilbert first noticed something was up.

“Tonio?” Gilbert said, more quietly this time, as he sat down beside his friend.

“Hola, Amigo,” Antonio finally responded, voice flat and muffled by his hands. If he hadn’t known better, Gilbert could’ve sworn it sounded like he was-

Gilbert grabbed his friend’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face and forcing the Spaniard to look at him. Sure enough, there were tear tracks running down his face, and his eyes were red and bloodshot.

“What happened?” Gilbert demanded, releasing Antonio’s wrists. “Who did this to you?”

He had to fight to keep the growl out of his voice. Getting angry wasn’t going to help anyone, no matter how much he wanted to find whoever had hurt his friend and beat them to a pulp.

“L-lovino broke up with me!” Antonio wailed, covering his face once more with his hands.

Gilbert should’ve felt guilty about the way his heart skipped a beat. If Antonio and Lovino weren’t a couple…that meant he might actually have a chance now.

Feeling like a cheap friend, Gilbert ignored the direction his thoughts were going in as he tried to think of something to say to his friend.

“That’s totally unawesome!” he finally said. “Doesn’t Romano know you’re almost as awesome as me?”

It didn’t really seem to cheer Antonio up, who only shrugged mutely in response. Gilbert decided words weren’t helping, and went in search of the only thing he knew that could fix a broken heart.

Leaving Antonio staring out into space, Gilbert went in search of something that could get them both drunk.  He found a case of beer in the fridge, the good kind that Antonio kept around for when Gilbert came over. It wasn’t exactly Antonio’s drink of choice, but it was what he was getting.

The Spaniard didn’t protest when an open bottle was slid into his hand. He took a swig without Gilbert having to tell him too, eager to forget.

Gilbert took his time, for once not matching Antonio drink for drink. By the time they’d managed to make a dent in the case, the sun was setting on the horizon, dying the sky a darkening shade of blood red. Antonio was beginning to relax, the alcohol beginning to take effect. Gilbert knew this was his chance.

“So what happened?” he asked, and there was no question as to what he was talking about. Luckily, Antonio seemed all too eager to share the details now, with his mind buzzing from the beer.

“Lovi’s been acting so distant lately, and at first I thought it was just stress…but then I came home, and he was waiting for me by the door and he told me that…he told me it was over.” Antonio stared sadly off into the gardens, eyes fixed on something only he could see.

“He’ll probably be back before you know it,” Gilbert said, a weak attempt at comforting his friend.

“He said he’s wanted to break up with me for months!” Antonio said, voice breaking. “And I-I said some things, and Lovino said that…that I only ever wanted Feliciano! I think he actually believed it too!”

Gilbert knew what it was like to feel like the underappreciated, unneeded brother. And he knew that Lovino was familiar with it too.

“He was mad, he didn’t mean it,” Gilbert said.

Antonio didn’t even reply, just broke down into more tears. Gilbert had seen his friends weak before, during wars and depressions, but never as utterly broken as this. Nations on the verge of collapse had more strength than the Spanish man sobbing before him. Gilbert almost wanted to tell Antonio to pull himself together.

Eventually, Antonio tired himself out. Gilbert dragged him to bed, not unused to the weight of a drunken friend on his shoulders, and left him to rest. He slept on the couch, knowing he couldn’t leave Spain alone to do something stupid.

And in the morning, when Antonio wandered downstairs and mumbled his thanks, Gilbert felt even worse about hopeful he was feeling.


	3. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino gets a rather sudden awakening after being dragged to Ludwig's house.

Lovino wasn’t even sure why he was here. It wasn’t like he wanted to be spending the weekend in Germany, of all places. But when Feliciano did _that_ face, with the puppy dog eyes and the quivering lip, it was impossible to say no. Lovino could be cruel sometimes, but he wasn’t heartless. Not when his _fratello_ was involved, anyway.

None of which explained why he was suddenly woken up by a loud clattering sound followed by angry German swearing. Lovino definitely could’ve ignored it, and almost certainly gotten back to sleep for another couple of hours. He’d gotten to bed late, and it was still pretty early. Except there was a really enticing smell drifting through the house, and Lovino was reminded that he’d skipped out on dinner the previous night.

Leaving the warmth of his bed, Lovino grabbed some clothes, got dressed and padded barefoot to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he came looking, but it certainly wasn’t _this_.

What he saw was Gilbert standing at the counter, hands and shirt covered in flour as he poured cream into a bowl. Two cakes say on a cooling rack beside him, and Lovino finally recognised the scent in the air as chocolate. His first instinct was to be incredibly confused. He didn’t wait long enough to find out with his second instinct was.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lovino asked, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“Scheiße!” Gilbert exclaimed, nearly knocking the bowl off the counter in his rush to turn around. “Don’t do that!”

If Lovino hadn’t known him, he would’ve thought Gilbert looked almost _guilty_ at being caught baking. The moment passed quickly, and the Prussian regained his composure. Lovino just glared at him, still annoyed at being woken up.

“The awesome me decided to do some baking,” he explained nonchalantly, turning back to the bowl on the countertop.

“Baking doesn’t usually involve waking people up with your stupid German cursing,” Lovino deadpanned.

He finally spotted an empty cake tin perched on the edge of the sink, crumbs scattered on the floor around it. It must’ve been dropped loudly enough to wake Lovino.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that,” Gilbert said, and he actually sounded half sincere about it.

Sighing, Lovino wandered over and sat on the edge of a small table that’d been crammed into the kitchen.

“What’re you making anyway?” he asked, nodding in the vague direction of the cakes.

“Black forest cake,” Gilbert replied absentmindedly, dropping a heap of dishes into the sink. “The most awesome German cake ever.”

Lovino rolled his eyes, not awake enough to think of a comeback to that. Even if he’d had one, it wouldn’t have shut the Prussian up. Gilbert was incorrigible.

“It’d better be worth two hours of sleep,” Lovino grumbled.

“If you keep complaining, you’re not getting any,” Gilbert said, and it might have been the most childish thing Lovino had ever heard a grown man say.

“How long until it’s ready?” He wasn’t going to admit it, but the cake _did_ smell good.

“Five minutes,” Gilbert replied, taking a knife and spreading cream on the cakes before stacking them on top of one another. “I didn’t know you were so eager to try my baking.”

Lovino spluttered for a few second, unable to come up with a response. He crossed his arms and prayed that Gilbert didn’t turn around to see the blush rising on his cheeks.

A few minutes later the cake was ready, sitting on a plate in the centre of the kitchen table. Gilbert didn’t bother cleaning up, and Lovino knew that would annoy Germany so he said nothing. Although…

“Where’s my _fratello_ and the potato bastard?” he asked, watching Gilbert cut two slices of cake.

“West took Feli out on a date,” Gilbert said, cackling to himself.

Lovino wasn’t in the mood to even think about that, so he focused on the cake instead.

“This had better be damn good,” he warned as a plate was set in front of him.

Gilbert smirked, taking a seat opposite him and digging into his own slice of cake. Lovino scowled, even as he picked up his fork and dug it into the chocolate sponge.

The moment he took the first bite, Lovino decided that it was, in fact, worth it.

The cake was warm and not overly sweet, baked for just long enough to cook the batter without making it dry. It was certainly better than anything Lovino had thought Gilbert was capable of making.

“So?” Gilbert asked, still smirking through a mouthful of cake.

“It’s fine.” Lovino shrugged, trying not to seem too eager to take another bite.

“Just ‘fine’?” Gilbert asked cockily, raising an eyebrow. Lovino sighed.

“It’s good. Happy now?” he relented. He supposed Gilbert deserved the praise, just this once. His head was already big enough as it is.

The Prussian’s smirk transformed to a more relaxed smile, ruby eyes staring straight into Lovino’s.

“I told you, it’s the most awesome cake ever.”


	4. Art

No matter how hard or how often he tried, Lovino had never been able to paint as well as his brother. Sure, his _sketches_ were just as good, but whenever he took a brush to canvas it all fell apart. Lovino had realised a long time ago that determination couldn’t always make up for pure, natural talent. When it came right down to it, he’d just never had the same control over colours, the same ability to look at a blank canvas and transform it into a finished product.

But even knowing this, Lovino still tried. Maybe he was sadistic, and liked torturing himself with the fact that he would always be the less talented brother. He usually tried to convince himself that it was relaxing, even if it wasn’t. Either way, Lovino painted even though he knew he would never live up to his own expectations.

To Lovino, there was nothing as infuriating as an empty canvas. Give him a world meeting or a stubborn nation any day. Yelling did little to spur creativity. Lovino didn’t even know what he wanted to paint, but he’d dragged himself into the studio, pulled out a blank canvas and poured out the paints, so he was damn well doing this.

A clean brush hovered over the palette as Lovino’s mind whirred with possibilities. Colours and ideas flew through his mind. Amber eyes darted between the red and green paints, both capturing his attention with their boldness. Lovino’s teeth slid over his lower lip, chewing gently as he concentrated.

 _Stop that,_ he scolded himself, releasing his lip. _He doesn’t like-_

Lovino caught the thought before it ran its course, grip tightening on the paintbrush and hand shaking slightly. _He_ wasn’t here, and what he thought didn’t matter. As if to prove a point, Lovino’s teeth captured his lip once again, biting down more harshly this time.

Staring down at the paints, another thought overcame his mind.

_Green eyes…_

Lovino held his head in his hands, probably getting paint on himself and in his hair in the process. Lovino didn’t care. He wished he wasn’t so screwed up, that he could go a single fucking day without thinking of Antonio. It didn’t make sense, the way he always found a way back into Lovino’s mind even as he tried anything to think of something else.

With a drawn-out sigh, Lovino dropped his hands and spun the paintbrush in his fingers. As he swirled it through a pot of clear water, and dragged the bristles across a towel to dry them slightly, Lovino stared out of the window.

Red roses swayed in a gently breeze outside, a splash of bright colour against the muted green of the grass and pale blue of the sky. Their petals shone with early morning dew, capturing the sunlight and reflecting it back into the morning air. Finally, Lovino knew what he wanted to paint.

Pointedly ignoring the green splodge on the palette, he dipped the end of the brush into the red paint. The first stroke across the canvas brought an image to his mind.

_Red eyes…_

Where that _that_ come from? Green eyes made sense, they’d been haunting his dreams for months, but red?

Lovino shook his head, trying to focus on the painting and not on his sudden fascination on the bright colour he was using.

Slowly the painting began to take shape, each brushstroke curving around the edge of a petal. Soft lines of black created shadows, contrasting with the white highlights where the petals caught the sun. Avoiding the green paint, Lovino drew a long, black stem, adorned with charcoal leaves. Occasionally Lovino’s eyes drifted to the window, studying the roses outside.

He lowered his gaze to the palette, dipping the brush into the white to create the final highlights. He was almost done.

_White hair…_

Lovino wanted to slam his fist down in anger, to scatter the paint and brushed across the floor in frustration. The brush in his hand slipped to the tiles below as he gripped the wooden edge of the table. All he wanted was to be able to let his thoughts wander for a few second without having to correct himself. Why did he feel so out of control?

Forcing himself to relax, Lovino took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He’d wanted to paint to take his mind off things, not to get frustrated like this. Once he’d calmed down enough to continue, Lovino stooped down and picked up the paintbrush he’d dropped. A trail of white had been left where it rolled across the floor.

Cleaning the brush, Lovino dipped it into the white paint as he stared at the canvas thoughtfully. It was almost complete, with just a few more highlights he could call it done.

After the final stroke of paint was added, Lovino stood back to survey his work. The rose unfurled in the centre of the canvas, dark shadows falling across the background and white highlights catching light. The contrast between the two seemed almost perfect. For once, Lovino felt satisfied with his work. He wasn’t comparing it to Feliciano’s, he wasn’t scanning for all the imperfections, he wasn’t criticising his use of colour and shadows.

And if the roses outside hadn’t been his only inspiration, maybe he could live with that.


	5. Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lovino gets woken up in the middle of the night, he was surprised it was Gilbert. He wasn't surprised he was drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: Action-Character must have a drink.

For _fuck’s_ sake.

Lovino was not in the goddamn mood for this. After the _stupido_ sudden meeting the nations had been called to and having to unexpectedly spend five days in France, all Lovino wanted to do was sleep until he could arrange a flight home. Of course fate wouldn’t let him have his way. The Italian nation was already at his wit’s end, and now _this_?

The drunken, incoherent phone call in the middle of the night was bad enough. The rambling German asking for directions back to the hotel had Lovino about to slam the phone and forget the call ever happened. The last he’d heard, Gilbert and Francis had been on their way to a bar just across the street from the hotel. If they wanted to get back, they could do it themselves or not at all.

That was when he heard the glass smashing.

The sound was dangerously close to the phone, followed by a string of French profanities. Gilbert’s distinct laugh echoed down the phone, while Lovino became increasingly aware of the yelling in the background of the call.

 “Are you in the middle of a bar fight?” Lovino asked exasperatedly. This was all he needed right now, to have to go and break up some rowdy mortals to keep Gilbert out of trouble.

“Where’s the hotel?” Gilbert slurred drunkenly, suddenly shifting to English.

“Gilbert, is there a fight going on?” Lovino asked again, fighting to keep himself from screaming obscenities down the phone.

He could picture Gilbert’s expression of concentration, brow furrowed and ruby eyes narrowed in confusion as he tried to comprehend the question. Finally, he responded.

“Ja!” Gilbert said, almost sounding proud of being involved. “France picked a fight with the mortals.”

“Over what?” Lovino growled, irritation finding its way into his voice. He slammed his face into his palm, groaning.

“They told him he couldn’t hold his liquor.” Gilbert cackled to himself, and Lovino was overcome with a sudden urge to go over there and slap him.

“Wait there,” Lovino instructed slowly. “I’m coming to get you.

He hung up, cutting Gilbert off mid-sentence, and forced himself out of bed. Despite his annoyance at being woken up, Lovino still hurried to pull on his jeans and shirt. Both Gilbert and France could handle themselves in a fight, but it wasn’t the possibility of physical injuries that he was worried about. If they caused trouble with the mortals, especially if the police got involved, there’d be hell to pay. It may have been the middle of the night, and Lovino may have been pissed, but Gilbert was his friend. He wasn’t about to drop the ex-nation in that kind of trouble.

As he walked into the hallway, Lovino was surprised to find that he wasn’t alone.

“Arthur?” Lovino said to the British nation exiting his room. England looked over his shoulder, noticing the Italian.

“Lovino?” Arthur responded, just as surprised.

“What are you doing out here?” Lovino asked, still annoyed at the fact he was freezing to death out here instead of asleep in a warm bed.

“I could ask you the same question,” Arthur replied stiffly, before seemingly catching himself. “Francis called me, it seems he’s in a spot of bother over at the bar. I thought I’d better go and sort things out.” Lovino found himself nodding.

“Gilbert called me too, damn bastard. He wanted directions back to the hotel.”

Arthur shook his head in exasperated disbelief. After a moment, he stared at Lovino quizzically.

“Why would he have called you?” Arthur asked, voicing the thought Lovino had been avoiding since answering the phone.

“No idea,” Lovino said, shrugging. “He was probably so drunk that he hit the wrong number.”

The explanation made sense. The strange sense of disappointment settling in Lovino’s chest didn’t.

“Well whatever the case, let’s go get those idiots before they make bigger fools of themselves.”

When they arrived, the bar was in chaos. Mortals were fighting their brawls, emboldened by beer and rage. An overwhelmed bartender stood behind the bar, a phone clutched in her hands. Lovino wanted to find Gilbert and throttle him for this, but that could wait until he was sober. If the police had been called, they didn’t have a lot of time to get out of here.

It wasn’t hard to spot them. Gilbert was the albino standing on a table, smashed bottle in hand, shouting about the awesomeness of the Teutonic knights. Francis wasn’t any better off, boasting in mangled English about the beauty of the French language, between deep swigs from a bottle.

Together, Arthur and Lovino probably could’ve gotten the two of them back to the hotel pretty easily. Something told Lovino that they weren’t going to put up much of a fight. It _would_ have been easy, if a drunk mortal hadn’t decided he was fed up with France’s drunken ramblings, and decided to put a stop to them by smashing an empty bottle over the blonde nation’s head.

Arthur moved so fast he was a blur. Before Lovino could even react, Arthur was across the room, holding the thug down.

“Now, why did you have to go and do a thing like that?” he asked sadistically, twisting the mortal’s arm behind his back.

With Arthur covering Francis, Lovino turned his attention to the other nation making an idiot out of himself. Gilbert wobbled precariously on the table, the bottle slipping from his fingers to shatter into a sea of glass below him.

And then, he fell.

Lovino’s eyes darted to the floor, covered in jagged shards of glass, and up to the falling Prussian. Not thinking what he was doing, Lovino rushed forward, glass crunching under his boots, and slammed Gilbert away. They both slammed to the floor, a dull thud echoing as Lovino’s head collided with the wooden boards. His shoulder ached from tackling Gilbert, and judging by the ringing in his ears he was going to get a concussion. Somewhere behind him, Gilbert groaned in pain.

Lovino’s world spun as he pulled himself up. He reached out to the edge of the table Gilbert had been standing on, steadying himself as he waited for his head to clear a little.

“Arthur?” Lovino called, once the ringing and spinning had subdued slightly.

“Just a second,” Arthur replied causally, seconds before a sickening crack echoed throughout the bar.

There was a scream of pain, then the sound of a body dropping to the floor. Lovino forced his gaze away from Gilbert, still writhing on the floor, to Arthur. The mortal who’d slammed the bottle over Francis’ head lay unconscious at his feet, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lovino said, screwing his eyes shut for a few seconds as pain echoed through his skull.

Arthur nodded, pulling Francis to his feet. Lovino staggered over to Gilbert and did the same, albeit with more difficulty. Being short had its disadvantages, especially when trying to lift something as heavy as Gilbert. Once he was on his feet, Gilbert threw an arm over Lovino’s shoulders to stead himself. Fighting to ignore the sudden weight across his back, Lovino ignored the throbbing pain in his head and followed Arthur out of the bar. The four of them made it across the street and into the hotel in one piece, all of them worse for wear than when they’d left.

It wasn’t until they got into the elevator, dimly lit by a bare, hanging bulb, that they saw the damage. Blood stained Francis’ blonde hair, seeping from a gash to his scalp. Crimson liquid dripped down his face, growing stains spreading on his white shirt. As Arthur lowered him to the floor and crouched before him, all Lovino could think was that Francis was going to be pissed that his suit was ruined.

Lovino chewed his lip, shifting Gilbert’s weight across his shoulders. For someone so scrawny, he seemed to weigh an awful lot. With the cloudy haze pressing in on the edges of Gilbert’s vision, he seemed to be getting heavier every second.

“I think he’s going to need stitches,” Arthur said, inspecting the open wound. “I should be able to manage this, no sense dragging him to a doctor at this hour of night. He’ll heal quickly anyway.”

Lovino nodded, more focused on the way Gilbert’s head rested on his shoulder, and how his warm breath was washing across Lovino’s neck. Even though they were only in the elevator less than a minute, it felt like a lot longer.

The elevator slowed to a stop, a sharp ding announcing they’d reached their floor. Once the four of them had dragged themselves out into the corridor, the doors slid shut, sealing the hallway in darkness once again. With a quick nod, Arthur silently retreated to his room, holding Francis’ limp body awkwardly as he unlocked the door.

The just left Lovino and Gilbert. By now, Lovino was ready to collapse. The ringing in his ears was back with a vengeance, and all he wanted was to get back into bed and sleep until noon. Of course it couldn’t be that simple.

After checking all of the Prussian’s pockets at least three times, Lovino had to conclude that he’d lost his room key at some point in the night. There was no way he could get Gilbert into his room without breaking the door down. He seriously considered just leaving the albino nation in the hallway for someone else to deal with in the morning. Lovino sighed, adjusting his grip on Gilbert. He wasn’t _that_ heartless.

Resigned to his fate, Lovino pulled the taller nation’s half-limp body down the hall to his own room and unlocked the door. He dumped Gilbert on the couch, rolling his shoulders the second the weight was gone from them.

As he trudged into his bedroom, the first thing Lovino did was lock the door behind him. He’d already been woken rudely by Gilbert once that night. Collapsing onto the bed fully clothed, Lovino could do nothing but fall quickly into a deep sleep. Yes he probably had a concussion, but he could deal with that in the morning. He was a nation, he would be fine.

It had been a long night, but Lovino knew it would be a longer morning that followed.


	6. Rain

When Gilbert woke it was to a pounding head, aching body, and the sound of rain. The feeling was familiar, horrible, and meant that he must’ve had an _awesome_ night.

Even if he didn’t remember any of it.

Vaguely, his muddled brain registered the smell of fresh coffee, somewhere beyond the stench of beer and sweat that clung to his skin. The light was harsh as ruby eyes blinked open, squinting against even the dim sunlight breaking through the storm outside. His entire body hurt, and more than in just a usual ‘awesome night out’ way.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, Gilbert looked around the unfamiliar room. Confusion began settling in as his mind scrambled to remember how he’d gotten back to the hotel. Ignoring the pain in his head, Gilbert pulled himself up. He tried to place where he was. He was definitely in the hotel, but this wasn’t his room. It was neater, with no clothes or belongings scattered around. Gilbert glanced to the kitchen behind him, where coffee brewed and rain pelted against the windowpanes. All the noise did was aggravate his headache.

“So you’re awake.”

The voice from the bedroom caused Gilbert to turn so fast that he felt dizzy in his hungover state. Lovino stood there, hair wet and arms folded.

“This is your room?” Gilbert asked, wincing and resting his head in his hands.

“Yes, idiot,” Lovino grumbled, but he had the decency not to be too loud.

Gilbert looked around again. He wouldn’t have expected the Italian nation to be so neat. It could have been because he spent so much time around Feliciano, who definitely wasn’t good at picking up after himself, but no way would Gilbert have guessed this was Lovino’s room.

“Why am I in your room?” Gilbert finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Why did you call me in the middle of the night asking for directions back to the hotel?” Lovino shot back.

“I did?”

The smaller nation ignored the question as he walked over to the kitchen, followed by a pair of curious red eyes. Gilbert remained silent while Lovino poured two cups of coffee, carrying them back towards the Prussian. Gilbert accepted the cup offered to him gratefully, immediately taking a sip of the strong, scalding liquid. Lovino sank tiredly into an armchair, sipping at his own drink, and for the first time Gilbert noticed a large bruise on the side of his head.

“How much do you remember?” Lovino asked, resting his head in his palm.

Gilbert struggled to remember anything past deciding to get drunk with Francis. Beyond hazy flashes of his awesome drunkenness, the night was a blur. He shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“I’m not even going to ask how much you had to drink,” Lovino said.

Gilbert couldn’t help but laugh at that, immediately regretting it as pain exploded inside his skull. Lovino’s lips twitched up into a lopsided smile even as he rolled his eyes. For someone who’d been woken up in the middle of the night to deal with a drunk friend, Lovino didn’t seem to be that mad about the whole thing.

“So,” Gilbert said, once the pain had receded, “what exactly happened last night?”

It took Lovino the better part of an hour to retell the events of the previous night. As he recounted how Gilbert had fallen from the table, the Prussian finally understood where Lovino’s bruise had come from. He also understood now why he’d woken up in Lovino’s couch.

“ _Verdammt,_ now I have to go around smelling like beer until I can break into my room,” Gilbert whined.

“It’s your own fault, bastard,” Lovino snapped. Gilbert felt bad when he saw the Italian nation wincing and gently prodding the bruise on his head. It had been partially his fault.

“Sorry about that,” Gilbert said, nodding towards the bruise and rubbing the back of his neck. Lovino looked somewhat taken aback by his sincerity.

“Yeah, well, don’t do it again. Bastard.” The insult sounded forced, as though Lovino’s mind was suddenly elsewhere.

Gilbert found his thoughts wandering too. He would eventually have to go find his _bruder_ , and find out when their flight was leaving. Somehow, he would have to get back into his hotel room. And he _definitely_ needed a shower. It probably wouldn’t hurt to check on Francis either. From what Lovino had told him, France had taken a more brutal beating than he had. Coffee finished and hangover easing up, Gilbert figured there was no sense denying it.

“As awesome as this has been,” Gilbert began, forcing himself to a standing position, “I have to find West.”

Lovino nodded silently, still lost in his own thoughts. Gilbert was thankful he kept his balance as he walked slowly towards the door. Pulling it open, he hesitated. Finally, he turned back, one hand resting on the doorframe.

“Hey, uh…thanks,” he said somewhat awkwardly, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“For what?” Lovino asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Not everyone would’ve gotten involved,” Gilbert said, shrugging.

“Well what else was I supposed to do?” Lovino demanded, but Gilbert could tell is was just as because he was at a loss for words.

“You’re pretty awesome, Lovi. Almost as awesome as me,” he said, smirking.

Then Gilbert winked, and left the room before the red-faced Italian could think of a reply.

And outside, the rain began to clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually really hard to write. Lovino's just a lot easier for me to get right, I guess. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy it.


	7. Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took a lot of convincing, but Gilbert finally got Lovino to agree to let him stay over.

Lovino was nervous. He wouldn’t admit why he was nervous, but he was. It’d been two weeks since the bar fight in Paris. In those two weeks, he and a certain Prussian had talked more than in the entire time they’d known each other.

It had started with an apology, albeit a very Gilbert-like one, about Lovino having to get involved. Then that had turned into banter, which had turned into actual conversation, which finally culminated in Gilbert asking if maybe Lovino would like to meet up some time.

At first, Lovino had tried to resist. He kept putting it off, saying he had meetings with his boss and that he was busy with national affairs. It was a lie, all of it, one Lovino told over and over again from having to face the truth. The truth that he’d realised on a rooftop bar in London. Lovino had been half-hoping that if he ignored his feelings, they would just fade away.

Like that’d worked.

Now here he was months later, still with the same dilemma. It shouldn’t feel like he was betraying _him_. Lovino owed nothing to Antonio, he no longer had to worry about the Spaniard’s feelings, and yet he was still there, a constant force within Lovino’s mind.

But as many excuses as Lovino made, Gilbert kept trying. He was persistent, Lovino would give him that. Eventually, Lovino had given in and agreed to meet up with the Prussian. His house had been the obvious destination. They could stay do whatever they wanted without having to worry about the damn potato-bastard. And of course, Lovino wouldn’t have to see his _fratellino_ all over previously mentioned potato-bastard.

So here he as, wandering restlessly about his house as he waited for the time he would have to go and pick Gilbert up from the airport in Rome.

Everyone always assumed that Lovino lived in Italy’s, but they were mistaken. While Lovino did have an apartment in Rome for world meetings and other events that required him to stay there, Lovino didn’t live there.

Where he lived was in Segni, a hilltop town about an hour away, in a sprawling stone house. The drive to _Roma_ could be bothersome at times, but Lovino wouldn’t give up this house, with his art studio and the pizza oven, just to live in the city.

As Lovino wandered into the lounge, a white cap leapt onto the back of the sofa, mewing demandingly for attention. Lovino obligingly ran a hand down her fur, scratching behind her ears.

“No eating Gilbird, Linosa,” Lovino mumbled. Linosa was a born hunter, always chasing mice through streets and alleyways. Lovino was worried about how she would fare with a bird in the house.

Glancing at the clock, Lovino knew he had to leave soon if he wanted to get to the airport in time. He paced through the house one more time, making sure everything was in its place. The house was neater than usual, not that it was usually a mess. Feliciano was the disorganised brother, not him. Cleaning had become somewhat of a nervous habit for him after spending so long as more powerful nations’ maid.

Finally the time came to pick Gilbert up from the airport. Linosa sat on the doorstep as he left, grooming herself disinterestedly. Lovino could barely focus as he drove. He gripped the steering wheel tight the entire way to Rome, and then even tighter as he waited for Gilbert to appear from the airport doors. When the albino swaggered out, deep blue suitcase in hand, Lovino had to remind himself that it was just Gilbert, they were just two friends spending a couple days together. Taking a deep breath, Lovino tried to force himself to relax as the back door of the car opened.

“What’s up, awesome Italian?” Gilbert asked, pushing his suitcase across the back seat.

“What took you so long?” Lovino asked, and they both knew it meant the same as ‘Hey, how are you?’

“Customs, pushy tourists,” Gilbert explained, sliding into the passenger seat.

Gilbird was perched on his shoulder, chirping happily as Gilbert raised a finger to stroke his bright feathers. How he’d gotten the bird through customs, Lovino would never know. Beginning the drive home, Lovino was suddenly feeling a lot more relaxed now that Gilbert was actually there.

“So how was the flight?” Lovino asked, only half-focusing as he navigated traffic.

“Long, boring, totally un-awesome,” Gilbert replied. “I can’t wait to actually walk around.”

Lovino distracted him with talk of what they could do for the next few days. Gilbert had never been to Lovino’s house, and was eager to explore the small town and surrounding countryside. Segni was built in the Lepine Mountains, and Lovino’s house in particular had a spectacular view overlooking the valley of the Sacco River. Lovino was still nervous about having Gilbert over, although he was determined not to show it. He shared jokes with the Prussian and even laughed as they bantered. By the time they reached Segni, they had the weekend mostly worked out.

Linosa came strutting out of the cat flap as they got out of the car, sitting haughtily on the stone driveway.

“Be careful with Gilbird around Linosa,” Lovino warned, sensing trouble between the two pets.

“Linosa?” Gilbert asked, grabbing his case from the car. “What’s with the name?”

Lovino shrugged, unlocking the front door.

“Linosa’s one of the southernmost islands of the coast of _Sicilia_. I _am_ Southern Italy, after all.”

When Lovino glanced down, Linosa’s eyes were fixed on Gilbird. The smaller creature was seemingly unaware of the attention on him, chirping happily as he hopped from Gilbert’s shoulder to the ground directly before Linosa. Lovino held his breath, expecting the cat to pounce. Instead, after a few nerve-wracking seconds, she mewed and nuzzled the small bird, actually _purring_. Gilbird cheeped and hopped onto her back, nestling into her fur. Both nations blinked, surprised.

“That was unexpected,” Gilbert said.

“Way to state the obvious. Come on, it’s warmer inside.” Spring still hadn’t settled properly across Italy, and Lovino had a sneaking suspicion it was going to rain later.

Gilbert followed Lovino into the house, the pets trailing behind. Gilbird was still riding on Linosa’s back as though she were some kind of horse, and Gilbert thought it was adorable.

“Look how cute they are together!” Gilbert said, taking out his phone to snap a few pictures. Gilbird puffed up his feathers proudly, while Linosa looked confused at the albino crouched before her, wielding a camera.

“The guest room is at the end of the hallway on the right, if you want to dump your stuff,” Lovino called from the kitchen. “I’m going to start on lunch.”

Segni was actually a pretty awesome town, Gilbert decided. After lunch, Lovino had taken him to the acropolis to see the temple of Juno Moneta, and after that to see the view of the valley of the Sacco River.

“They call Segni ‘the Pearl of the Lepine Mountains,’” Lovino said as they walked through the streets aimlessly.

It was the most relaxed Gilbert had ever seen the Italian. Usually he was either cursing or brooding, but here Gilbert could practically _feel_ him coming alive as he talked about the town, about its history and architecture. It made Gilbert wistful of the time he’d had town like this to talk of, but at the same time he was enraptured by the usually aggressive nation talking so animatedly.

It dawned on Gilbert that he was excited, to have someone to tell about his history and culture, to have someone interested in him rather than Feliciano. Gilbert knew what that was like, to be overshadowed, and he knew that he was one of the few people to have ever seen Lovino like this.

“I think it’s going to rain…” Lovino said, finally pausing to stare at the sky.

Sure enough, within the next few minutes the storm clouds that had been hovering on the horizon gradually settled over the town. Rain began pouring, darkening the late afternoon until it felt like night. Lovino opened the umbrella he’d brought, but almost immediately it was snatched away by Gilbert. Naturally, Lovino grumbled about it as they hurried through the pouring rain.

“Just because I’m shorter doesn’t mean you get automatic umbrella-holding rights,” Lovino complained, walking as fast as he could without slipping on the wet stones of the streets.

“You were hitting me in the head with it!” Gilbert replied indignantly, hurrying to keep up with the Italian. For someone so small, he could move pretty fast when he wanted to.

“Then tell me that, instead of just taking it!” Lovino said. “I’m still getting soaked, damn it.”

In response, Gilbert snaked an arm around Lovino’s waist and pulled him closer, further under the sanctuary of the umbrella.

“Better?” he asked, smirking down at the Italian.

“Bastard!” Lovino cried, but he didn’t try to move away.

It didn’t take them long to reach the house, but they were still soaked by the time they got there. Lovino finally moved away from Gilbert-somewhat reluctantly, he noted-to unlock the door.

“I’ll start a fire,” Lovino said, heading towards the living room.

Gilbert retreated to his bedroom, peeling off his wet clothes and changing into dry ones. When he came back to the living room, a fire was growing in the fireplace and Lovino was nowhere to be found. Wandering into the kitchen, he pulled two beers from the fridge before grabbing the TV remote and sprawling on the couch in front of the fire.

Linosa wandered into the room as Gilbert turned on the TV, turning up her nose at the sight of the Prussian spread across the couch. She meowed disapprovingly before trotting back into the kitchen, Gilbird still nestled in her white fur.

“Traitor,” Gilbert murmured, cracking his beer.

Lovino returned, also changed out of his wet clothes, and nudged Gilbert aside until there was enough room for him to sit on the couch beside him. Gilbert handed him the unopened beer.

“ _Grazie_ ,” he said, turning to the TV.

After talking during their walk through Segni, the two were content to sit in comfortable silence and relax. Occasionally one of them would burst out of something on the TV, but mostly they stayed silent, enjoying each other’s company.

And when Gilbert slid an arm around Lovino’s shoulders, he was pleasantly surprised to find the smaller nation leaning into his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Linosa is one of the Pelagie islands off the coast of Sicily, Italy. It is one of the southernmost points in Italy.
> 
> Sicilia is the Italian name for the region of Sicily.


	8. Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a great three days, but it had to end eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: Action-Character must drive a car.

After Gilbert’s bag were packed and he was ready to leave, Lovino was almost sad to see him go. They’d had a great three days, and Gilbert certainly felt more at home in Italy now. His proudest accomplishment from the visit was picking up a few choice phrases in Italian that would definitely get Feliciano flustered.

Gilbird was reluctant to leave, sitting stubbornly on Linosa’s back. It took quite a few stern calls from the Prussian before he relented, hopping up onto his master’s shoulder reluctantly. The yellow bird refused to chirp out of anger at being separated from his new friend. Linosa looked coolly towards Gilbert, but still rubbed herself against his leg quickly before returning into the house.

“Linosa likes you,” Lovino said, surprised.

“What can I say? I’m just that awesome,” Gilbert said, sliding into the car.

“Shut up, _idiota_ ,” Lovino said, but he was smirking.

Lovino couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness as they left Segni behind, beginning the drive to Rome. He wondered how long it would be before Gilbert would return to the small town, which would feel so much smaller without his large presence in it. Even Lovino’s home would feel quiet and empty without the Prussian constantly romping around, demanding beer and attention.

“We’ve got to meet up again soon,” Gilbert rambled, doing most of the talking as Lovino focused on driving. “This was really awesome.”

Lovino wanted to protest that it wasn’t over yet, but really it was. In a few hours Gilbert would be back in Berlin, and he would be back in Segni.

“Didn’t realise you were so eager to see me again,” Lovino finally said instead.

“Of course I’m eager to see my favourite Italian again!”

Lovino nearly ran the car right off the road. His favourite? He was Gilbert’s favourite? But he practically lived with Feliciano, how could he say that? How could he possibly compare Lovino to his perfect brother?

“Lovino?” Gilbert asked, tilting his head. “Anyone home?” He waved a hand in front of the Italian’s face, only to have them swatted away.

“You’ll make me crash, bastard!”

Lovino tried to convince himself that he hadn’t meant it. He tried to make himself believe that it was just something Gilbert had said, but that didn’t stop his heart from pounding or his mouth from going dry. It took all of his attention to focus on driving without crashing.

“You’re the one who spaced out on me,” Gilbert said, shrugging.

Then Lovino threw back an insult, and suddenly they were talking again, bantering and laughing at words that anyone else would mistake for hostile. Lovino slowly relaxed as they drove on, wondering why he hadn’t gotten close to the Prussian sooner.

“So, how are you going to occupy the rest of the day without the awesome me?” Gilbert asked, pointing dramatically to himself at the word ‘awesome’.

“I’m picking up some art supplies in Rome, then I’ll probably get some lunch somewhere before I head home.”

“Art supplies?” Gilbert asked, suddenly interested.

“New paints, some brushes. It’s impossible to get the ones I like in Segni, and having them delivered is too expensive.”

“I didn’t know you painted,” Gilbert remarked. “I mean, from the way Feli is always going on about wanting to paint West, I always assumed he had that covered.” Gilbert snickered to himself at the memories of Feliciano begging Ludwig to pose for a portrait.

Lovino had kept the door to his studio locked the entire time Gilbert had been over, afraid his guest would wander in and make fun of his mediocre attempts at painting.

“Feliciano’s better at it,” Lovino said truthfully.

“You can’t compare yourself to someone else’s style,” Gilbert said seriously.

Sometimes Lovino forgot that Gilbert had once been a great nation, with his own art and history and culture. But whenever Gilbert said something like that, he remembered.

“Next time, you’re showing me your paintings,” Gilbert declared.

“Fine, whatever.”

Lovino grumbled about it, secretly hoping that Gilbert would forget by the next time he visited. He’d never shown anyone else his paintings, except for Feliciano and that didn’t count. His _fratello_ never saw them anymore, not since Lovino had gotten tired of hearing what he could do to be better. He knew that Feliciano wasn’t _trying_ to insult him, but he managed to anyway.

As they approached the airport, Gilbert had gone as quiet as it was possible for him to be, and Lovino had no idea what to say.

“This is goodbye then,” Gilbert said as Lovino parked the car.

“You sure you can manage on your own? It’s pretty insane in there.” Lovino motioned in the direction of the terminal.

“ _Ja_ , I’ll be fine,” Gilbert said, waving his hand dismissively. “I got here in one piece, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing,” Lovino grumbled, but he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“I promise I’ll call you if I need rescuing,” Gilbert said. “But I’d better go before I miss my flight.”

“Yeah, yeah, hurry up and get out already,” Lovino said. Gilbert mock-saluted him, and Lovino had a sudden urge to burst into giggles.

“Yes, sir!” Gilbert said, clambering out of the car.

Lovino watched as he grabbed his suitcase and walked down to the driver’s side. Lovino put down the window, wanting to say something but not wanting to sound like a needy child. Luckily, Gilbert seemed to read his mind.

“I’ll text you when I land in Berlin,” Gilbert said, grinning. “I can’t have my favourite Italian suffering from awesomeness withdrawal!”

“Insufferable bastard,” Lovino said, but he was smirking. “Hurry up and get on your stupid flight already.”

“I’ll see you soon. My place next time,” Gilbert said.

“Whatever, bye Gilbert,” Lovino replied, smirk softening into a smile.

“See you, Lovi!” Gilbert said, waving.

And then Gilbert smiled back.

And then he was gone.


	9. Lilies

It was a strange comparison to make. And yet, it was oddly fitting.

Gilbert reminded Lovino of a Lily of the Valley.

He’d really only thought of it because they grew in the forest by his house, where he walked sometimes when he was feeling frustrated. It might seem odd, to compare someone like Gilbert to something as small and delicate as a flower. But Lovino saw it, to him it made sense.

The lily was beautiful, as white as the Prussian’s hair and skin, completely unassuming. It smelt sweet, luring people in. But beneath the surface, there was danger. Get too close, and you get poisoned.

That was what it was like with Gilbert.

Lovino felt like he had to be overly cautious. He didn’t feel ready, he _wasn’t_ ready, for another relationship. Not yet. He was still constantly worried about getting hurt, about getting to close to a fire and getting burnt.

But then Gilbert would say something, and Lovino would forget his defences and laugh, or smile. Then he would remember himself, and close up again. It repeated, a tedious, never-ending cycle. But it worked.

Until the party.

Alfred threw parties for everything. Whenever he could, for whatever reason. All he needed was the smallest excuse to celebrate, which he always took, and suddenly nations would be finding themselves invited to America’s house.

Lovino didn’t want to go. He’d never been one for parties, and in the months since the breakup he hadn’t been interested in going anywhere he’d have to see Antonio. Except Feliciano had begged him, and even though it had been over the phone Lovino could just _feel_ him doing the puppy dog eyes as he’d pleaded, and said that Gilbert would be there. And really, Lovino had nothing better to do, and it was a good enough excuse to get drunk anyway so why not?

And that’s how Lovino ended up drunk, bored and alone at Alfred’s _stupido_ party.

It had been a terrible idea to come. He’d seen Antonio dancing with Belgium almost as soon as he’d arrived, and he had _not_ had enough to drink to deal with that.  So now he stood on a balcony, watching the party with disinterest as he sipped a beer. He couldn’t remember exactly how many he’d had, but certainly enough for a pleasant buzz to be working its way through his mind. After a few more, he might even feel up to joining the party again.

A door in the room behind him flung open, spilling soft, warm light out onto the balcony. Heavy footsteps stomped up to Lovino, followed by an arm draping itself across his shoulders.

“He-e-ey, Lovi!” The voice was unmistakable.

“Piss off, Gilbert,” Lovino growled, trying to shake off the arm. Of course, it didn’t work.

“Isn’t my awesomeness good enough for you? I’m hurt,” Gilbert exclaimed, his words slurring together.

“You’re drunk,” Lovino said, voice flat.

“You are too!” Gilbert said, pointing in the vague direction of the empty bottle in Lovino’s hand.

“I’ve been drinking, it’s not the same thing.”

Gilbert swayed unsteadily on his feet, gripping tightly to Lovino as he tried to process the smaller man’s words.

“You’d better not fucking pass out on me, bastard,” Lovino mumbled. Even if he’d spoken up, Gilbert wouldn’t have understood it.

Not a second after Lovino had said it, Gilbert went crashing to the floor, the alcohol in his system taking him down. And the arm wrapped tightly around Lovino’s waist brought him down too.

“Oi, bastard!” Lovino shouted, landing on top of the Prussian with a grunt.

When he turned up to look at Gilbert, he was giggling uncontrollably. A pale finger pressed itself gently against Lovino’s nose, followed by another spurt of giggling.

“Awesome Italian!”

“Idiot.”

Gilbert attempted to look hurt, and Lovino rolled his eyes, all the while both of them still lay on the floor. Then _it_ happened.

Lovino opened his mouth, to demand that Gilbert let him go, but he never got the chance. There were suddenly lips pressed against his own, _Gilbert’s_ lips, warm and tasting of alcohol. Lovino squeaked, struggling in the Prussian’s arms only to be held tighter. Finally he submitted, tentatively returning the kiss.

Gilbert pulled back a few second later, his head falling back against the ground.

“ _My_ awesome Italian.”

Then he passed out, Lovino still trapped in his arms.


	10. Systematic

Lovino could list a thousand reason why he should hate the Prussian.

In the weeks since the party, since the _stupid_ incident, Lovino had thought about those reasons a lot.

Like how Gilbert was loud, and imposing. Whenever he was in a room, it was almost impossible to focus on anything else. How long could Lovino possibly put up with someone like that?

Or there was his track record with relationships, how many could Lovino count?

And Lovino had just gotten out of a relationship himself, with _Gilbert’s best friend_. Why was he even considering this? Lovino needed more time, he still wasn’t over Antonio!

Every time Lovino thought about Gilbert, he thought about the party. About what Gilbert had said the next morning, when Lovino had confronted him.

_“What the hell were you doing last night?”_

_“Last night? No idea, I don’t remember.”_

Lovino’s anger came back to him, the hurt, the tears that had threatened to spill from his eyes, he remembered it all. He’d been stupid to think it meant anything, stupid to consider that Gilbert had even known what he was doing while he’d been drinking.

And yet a small part of Lovino’s brain refused to believe that it had meant nothing, reminding him of all the things that stopped him from hating the Prussian.

The first Lovino always thought of was his laugh. There were so many other things that might follow, but the laugh was always first. It was unmistakable, Lovino could find no other sound to even compare it to. Many nations considered it annoying, or grating, but he didn’t. It was just a reminder that the Prussian was there.

But Gilbert could also be quiet, when he wanted to be. Lovino couldn’t help but remember when Gilbert had stayed over, and they’d sat together watching TV. Gilbert hadn’t been loud then. The only time they’d really talked was when Gilbert had asked Lovino to translate the Italian, or to laugh at the pretentious, over-dramatic acting. Lovino couldn’t possibly have hated the Prussian then.

The grey sky across Southern Italy reflected Lovino’s mood. He felt as dull as the sky, numb and unfeeling. Even Linosa’s concerned meows didn’t distract the Italian as he sat on the couch, staring into space.

What did finally grab his attention was his phone.

It rung persistently, echoing throughout the stone walls of the cold, empty house. Each ring seemed to grow louder than the first, boring into Lovino’s very skull. The perpetual ringing never seemed to end, until finally he couldn’t bear to hear it anymore. Reaching towards the coffee table, where it lay vibrating against the wood, he looked to the screen.

_Gilbert Beilschmidt_

For a moment Lovino considered declining the call. Then, with a barely audible groan, he answered it, lifting the phone to his ear.

“What?” he snapped, growling.

“I lied.”

“Again, what?” Lovino asked, getting irritated. He was not in the mood for the incoherent ramblings of a Prussian. Maybe he should add this conversation to the list of reasons why he should hate the Prussian.

“About the party, when I said I didn’t remember, I was lying.”

Gilbert’s words came out rushed and barely comprehensible, but they still brought Lovino’s world to a sudden, grinding halt.

The party.

He remembered the kiss? But he couldn’t! Lovino wanted to die, whether it was out of embarrassment, shame or anger he didn’t know. The emotions raced around inside his head, Lovino completely at their mercy as he struggled to process the Prussian’s words. Anger won out in the end.

“What the hell?” Lovino shouted, scaring Linosa into scampering away.

“I’m sorry…” Gilbert mumbled, and for a moment Lovino faltered at the tone of his voice, the sincerity he heard. He almost wanted to forgive him, to calm down and talk about this. Almost.

“You said you didn’t remember!” Lovino growled, hands shaking.

“Shut up and listen to me!” Gilbert yelled.

His commanding tone shocked Lovino into remaining quiet. There was a pause, a silence that seemed to stretch into eternity. Then a long, drawn-out sigh, before Gilbert finally continued.

“All I could remember was you struggling, trying to get away and…I thought you didn’t like it. I thought you would hate me for trying,” Gilbert said quietly, honestly. “I thought you were rejecting me.”

“Then why are you telling me now?” Lovino asked softly, anger subsiding as he listened to the Prussian’s words.

“I kept thinking about it, until eventually I remembered the rest,” Gilbert replied. Lovino could imagine him shrugging on the other side of the phone, trying to act more confident than he really felt. Lovino knew that feeling all too well.

“And?” Lovino asked, fighting to not revert to his usual defence mechanism of closing up, acting cold and harsh. It was harder to get hurt that way, but it was harder to ever get close to anyone.

“Maybe we could…try again sometime?”

Gilbert’s voice was so hopeful. There wasn’t a trace of the loud, assertive tone that it had held earlier.

So despite everything Lovino had been trying to tell himself, despite all the reasons he could think of against it, there was only one answer he could have ever given to that question.

“I’d like that.”


	11. Black

This terrified him.

More than wars, more than natural disaster or complete economic breakdown, _this_ of all things scared Lovino. Standing outside Germany’s house, Gilbert walking in front of him, suitcase in hand.

Gilbert had been talking excitedly about how much of an awesome time they were going to have since the moment Lovino had stepped off the plane. If Lovino didn’t knew better-which he wasn’t entirely sure he did-he could’ve mistaken Gilbert’s enthusiastic conversation for nervous ramblings. The Italian had barely said a word since greeting the Prussian, nerves taking over.

They were really doing this.

The moment Lovino stepped into the house, he found himself being tackled by an excited blur of an Italian.

_“Fratellone!”_

Lovino caught his brother with practice ease, the force of the collision barely shaking his balance. Feliciano smiled brightly up at him, clinging tightly to his brother.

“Ciao, Feli,” Lovino said, forcing a smile for Feliciano’s sake.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Feliciano said in Italian.

As he spoke, Feliciano grabbed Lovino’s hand and practically dragged his older sibling towards the guest room.

“Now we can have lots of fun, and Ludwig will be here and it’ll be so amazing!” Feliciano chattered happily.

Lovino allowed himself to be led upstairs, lacking the heart and the cruelty to tell his brother to let him go, or to shut up. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have even let them near him. Well, almost anyone else.

Feliciano chatted for what felt like forever, sitting on the bed and swinging his legs and Lovino put his things away. It took a while for him to get the message that Lovino wasn’t particularly interested in the conversation. The flight from Rome to Berlin wasn’t particularly long, but it still left Lovino wanting at least a few minutes to himself.

The second Feliciano left the room, Lovino collapsed onto the bed. He closed his eyes against the sight of the unfamiliar ceiling, reminding himself that he’d agreed to this, he didn’t need to be nervous.

In the end he tried not to think about it, that they were actually doing this. Heaven help them if Antonio ever found out…

Lovino slammed the palm of his hand against his face, groaning softly. He seriously needed to stop doing this. Lovino didn’t have to answer to anyone anymore…still, it’d been so long since he’d had this kind of freedom.

“How come you look like you’re dying?”

Lovino had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the door creaking open, or footsteps approaching the bed as a face peered down at him.

“Piss off.”

Lovino could’ve hit himself. For the first thing he’d said to Gilbert since the airport, it wasn’t exactly great. What the hell was wrong with him?

The bed dipped with the sudden addition of extra weight. Even with his hand covering his face, Lovino could figure out that Gilbert was sitting on the bed next to him. The Italian let his arm drop, staring up at the albino face looming over him.

Gilbert was wearing a black t-shirt.

It was the first thing he noticed. It was the sort of this that shouldn’t have stuck out, but it did. The dark colour contrasted so radically with his deathly pale skin that it almost looked as though the Prussian _was_ dead. The thought scared Lovino so much that he tentatively reached out a hand to trace gently along a thin, pale arm. Gilbert tilted his head, watching Lovino’s actions.

“What’re you doing?”

“Making sure you’re real,” Lovino murmured, knowing it would make no sense.

“You’re weird,” Gilbert snorted, lifting his arm to catch Lovino’s hand within his own. Lovino knew he was blushing, but he also knew there was nothing he could do about it.

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Gilbert shrugged, smirking.

Very carefully, very purposefully, he lifted Lovino’s hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against Lovino’s tanned skin. He acted as if he were afraid of scaring Lovino away, which, the Italian realised, he probably was. Lovino didn’t have the best reputation when it came to displays of affection, despite being Italian.

“B-bastard!” Lovino said quietly, but as much as he tried to force himself to be angry, he couldn’t.

Then Gilbert dropped his hand, and the intimate moment was over.

“I came to tell you dinner’s ready. Feli cooked, so it’ll be good.”

Trademark smirk in place, Gilbert rose from the bed and walked out, leaving one very flustered Italian still lying on the bed.


	12. Candles

“Want to watch a movie?”

It was an innocent enough question. Lovino and Gilbert had the house to themselves, and there wasn’t much else to do. Shrugging in response, Lovino looked to the DVD clutched in Gilbert’s hand.

“What movie?”

“That new one, ‘Unfriended’. Kiku got me a copy,” Gilbert explained, grinning wickedly. “So?”

“Fine. There’s nothing better to do anyway.”

Gilbert stomped off down the stairs to put the movie on, and Lovino eventually found the willpower to trudge after him. By the time he walked into the living room, the TV was on and the Prussian was sprawled on the couch, movie paused and remote in hand. He grinned lazily at Lovino.

“I’ve heard this movie is awesome,” he said, eyes gleaming as they followed Lovino.

“Then hurry up and start it,” Lovino said, sitting on the small section of couch not taken up by Gilbert. For someone so thin, he could take up a lot of space.

Unpausing the movie, Gilbert wrapped an arm around Lovino and pulled him closer. Lovino let out a high-pitched noise of protest, surprised by the sudden action. He almost yelled at Gilbert, and pushed him away, but stopped himself.

 _It’s only Gilbert,_ he reminded himself. _There’s no one else here._

The movie was pretty typical for the horror genre, though its premise was interesting. Lovino found himself unconsciously pressing against Gilbert as it continued, glad he hadn’t forced the Prussian’s arm off of him before.

“Scared?” Gilbert asked, chuckling down at the Italian.

“No!” Lovino protested, shoving his shoulder into Gilbert’s ribs. “Shut up and watch the movie.”

Gilbert kept laughing quietly to himself, the distinctive sound enough to ground Lovino in reality, away from the film. He eventually relaxed, even as the action on screen ramped up. It was just a movie, after all.

The power went out just as ‘Lights Out’ appeared on screen.

The screen died with a soft click. The room plummeted into darkness. Lovino gasped, body tensing as his eyes searched through the blackness, looking for a source of light but finding none. Gilbert groaned beside him, more annoyed than anything else, and Lovino could feel him slumping against the back of the couch.

“It was just getting good!” he said, sighing.

“How long do you think the power will be out?” Lovino asked, fighting to keep his voice from faltering.

“No idea.” A pause. “Why, is my little Italian scared?”

Lovino was too worried about the darkness pressing in on him to care about being called ‘little’. Gilbert must have sensed how Lovino was feeling, because suddenly the arm wrapped around his waist tightened reassuringly.

“Wait here,” Gilbert instructed.

Before Lovino could protest, he was alone on the couch, alone in the dark. Without the presence of someone else beside him, Lovino started shaking. The only sounds in the house were those made by Gilbert, faint yet impossible loud in the empty darkness.

If he’d just kept his mouth shut, none of this would’ve happened. But no, Lovino just had to go and tempt fate didn’t he? Now he was stuck here in the dark, kicking himself for acting so tough earlier. It served him right, he supposed, but it wasn’t as if he _expected_ the power to go off.

Footsteps approached after what felt like an eternity, the room slowly becoming illuminated by a warm, flickering light. Lovino turned, finding Gilbert walking back to the couch holding a candle.

“I couldn’t find a torch,” he said simply, setting the candle on the table. “It’s better than nothing, right?”

 Lovino nodded, even though Gilbert wasn’t looking, unable to say anything. He felt so stupid, having a panic attack just because of the dark. The second Gilbert sat down, Lovino moved towards him, not caring how needy or childish he seemed. Later he could defend himself, right now he just needed someone to be near.

“Lovi?” Gilbert asked, turning to the Italian. “Are you okay?”

Lovino shook his head, curling in on himself in an effort to block out the darkness hiding beyond the edges of the candlelight. Gilbert pulled Lovino into his lap, holding him tightly.

“What do you need?” he asked. Lovino was grateful he didn’t ask the obvious question: Why?

“D-distract me,” Lovino said, tremors running through his body.

Gilbert smirked, almost making Lovino sorry for asking. Then all thoughts flew from his mind as Gilbert leaned down, kissing Lovino firmly.

For a few second he didn’t react, too shocked to do anything but just sit there as warm lips moved across his own. This wasn’t like last time. There was no alcohol, no party, just the two of them sitting on a couch in the dark.

After the initial shock, Lovino slowly responded, until he was kissing back with the same sureness that Gilbert showed. A tongue ran across his lower lip, and Lovino opened his mouth to the Prussian.

They lost track of time, the candle slowly burning down as they shared eager kisses and hesitant touches. Lovino forgot about the panic that had threatened him earlier. When finally they pulled away from one another, both panting heavily and speechless, he laid his head on Gilbert’s chest, eyes slipping shut.

“Distracted?”

“Shut up, bastard,” Lovino said, but he was smiling tiredly.

Gilbert held Lovino as he fell asleep, feeling safe even in the darkness.


	13. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Song-Need you Now by Lady Antebellum

The noise was disorienting. A constant ringing pierced through the darkness, not lending any direction to its sound. Lovino woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. Without thinking he reached for it, mind still fogged by sleep. He fully intended to tell whoever it was to piss off, expecting it to be Gilbert drunk-calling him again.

He was half right.

“Fuck off,” he said, voice thick with sleep.

“Lovi?” At the sound of the voice, the familiar, Spanish voice, Lovino froze.

“Antonio?” Lovino gasped quietly, suddenly wide awake.

“My Lovi answered!” Antonio slurred, dissolving into giggled.

“I don’t belong to you,” Lovino hissed, fear replaced by anger.

Antonio went quiet, struggling to comprehend Lovino’s words through the haze of alcohol. The Italian sat up slowly, phone clutched tightly in a shaking hand. He expected to hear Antonio’s voice again, but it was a woman that spoke next.

“Come back to bed,” she begged, dangerously close to the phone. That wasn’t what make Lovino’s heart clench. She was speaking _Italian_.

Panic began setting in, confusion and anger and hurt all tearing at each other in Lovino’s chest. It felt as though the air had been knocked from his lungs and a hand clamped over his mouth, leaving Lovino struggling to breathe.

At the sound of breathless giggling, Lovino hung up, staring at his phone as though it was radioactive. He wanted to throw it against the wall, or be sick, or just curl up and cry. He was shaking too badly to do anything but try and remember how to breathe. He needed to calm down, he needed…

He needed Gilbert.

Lovino’s fingers trembled so badly that he had to retype the number three times, almost hurling his phone against the wall in frustration. Waiting for the Prussian to pick up was torture, each ring reminding him that Gilbert may not pick up at all.

“Lovi?”

He’d been so focused on keeping himself together, on his crawling skin, on trying to breathe, that he hadn’t noticed Gilbert picking up the phone.

“Gilbert?” he asked quietly, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“What’s up?” Gilbert said, yawning. “It’s a quarter past one, you okay?”

Lovino wanted to feel bad about waking Gilbert up, but the sound of the Prussian’s voice  was so familiar that it left him unable to feel anything but relief.

“No,” Lovino admitted, letting himself fall back against the pillows.

“What happened?” Gilbert asked, worriedness creeping into his tone.

Lovino let out a small whimper, curling up around himself. He didn’t know if he could bring himself to say it, to tell Gilbert what had happened. But he’d called the Prussian in the middle of the night, he deserved an explanation at least.

“Antonio called me,” Lovino whispered quickly, voice cracking. He was glad Gilbert could even understand what he’d said, he didn’t know if he could stand to repeat it.

“What did he do?” Gilbert asked seriously, all traces of sleep gone from his voice.

Lovino couldn’t bring himself to say it. He tried to force the words out, but all that happened were unbidden tears spilled from his eyes as sobs wracked his small frame.

“Lovi, what did he say?” Gilbert asked firmly.

“Nothing, he didn’t say anything,” Lovino replied.

“Was he drunk?”

Lovino didn’t reply. Gilbert knew the answer immediately.

“Do you need to be distracted again?” he asked gently.

“Si,” Lovino answered, voice barely more than a whisper.

Obligingly, Gilbert started talking. He spoke in German and English and what little Italian he knew, and Lovino listened even when he couldn’t understand the words. Slowly he relaxed, eyes slipping shut as the Prussian continued talking. By the time Lovino felt calm enough to sleep, they’d been on the phone for over two hours.

“Thank you,” Lovino said quietly when finally Gilbert stopped talking.

“Just helping my cute little Italian,” Gilbert replied. Lovino cringed at Gilbert’s possessiveness, but said nothing.

“I’m going to sleep now…sorry for keeping you awake,” Lovino mumbled, suppressing a yawn.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gilbert said. “Now get some sleep, and-“ Gilbert cut himself off, before continuing, “I’ll be here, if you need me.”

“Whatever you say,” Lovino said, but he was smiling. Buonanotte,” Lovino said, curling up under the blankets.

“Gute Nacht,” Gilbert replied, ending the call.

Lovino fell asleep with the phone still clutched in his hand.

Linosa was an incredibly particular feline. She liked getting her meals and she liked getting them at the right time each day, whether her owner liked it or not.

When Lovino was still asleep come breakfast time, the cat took it upon herself to correct that fact. Leaping elegantly onto the bed, Linosa gently rubbed her head underneath Lovino’s chin, meowing loudly. The Italian barely stirred, only moving to bury his face further into the pillow. Determined, Linosa wriggled beneath her owner and the pillow, continuing her insistent meowing.

“I’ll get your food in a minute, Linosa,” Lovino said dismissively, trying to quiet her down.

Linosa wasn’t having any of it. She dragged a rough tongue across Lovino’s cheek, letting out another meow.

“Fine, fine, I’ll get it now,” he relented.

Lovino stood tiredly, body heavy with exhaustion. Linosa trotted ahead of him to the kitchen, sitting by her food bowl with her head held proudly high. Lovino poured her food into the bowl, giving the cat an affectionate scratch behind the ears despite the unwelcome wake-up call.

Stretching, Lovino trudged over to the front door. Some fresh air would probably wake him up, as much as the Italian wanted to go back to bed.

Opening the door, Lovino almost fell over a body curled up in his doorway. More specifically, he nearly tripped over Gilbert.

“Gilbert?” Lovino exclaimed, staring down in shock at the albino.

“Hey,” Gilbert said sheepishly, looking up at him.

“What are you doing here?” Lovino demanded, but he knew he couldn’t be mad.

“I couldn’t just leave you alone after last night,” Gilbert explained simply, pulling himself up.

Lovino immediately pulled the Prussian down to his level, smashing their lips together. Gilbert made a muffled noise of surprise, quickly returning the kiss.

“Idiot,” Lovino mumbled against Gilbert’s lips.

“Ja, but I’m your idiot,” Gilbert replied, smirking as he pulled back and wound his arms around the Italian.

Lovino leaned up for another kiss, and decided that just maybe, he could manage taking care of another idiot.


	14. Quote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Quote "Never regret what once made you smile."

Whenever Lovino thought about it, he felt guilty. Stupid, stubborn and guilty.

Stupid for thinking that it could ever work.

Stubborn for ignoring all the signs.

Guilty for letting it go on for as long as he did.

Even though Antonio must have known, must have been able to tell that their relationship was falling apart, they both knew he never could have ended it. So Lovino continued feeling guilty over something that was never in his control to begin with. He felt guilty about everything they’d ever shared together, about everything he’d given up when they’d finally ended, because he hadn’t deserved any of it.

Most of all, he felt guilty about how it ended.

And about staying away.

Lovino even felt guilty about everything Antonio had done since, even though he had no place controlling the Spaniard’s action. Every meaningless fling, every time Antonio drunk himself blind, wasn’t just a reminder to Lovino that they were over, it was a reminder that he’d been the one to break it off, that he’d been the one to cause all of this.

And it _hurt_.

Lovino had been the one to mess everything up, to ruin all of it. It was his fault. As much as he tried to tell himself that it wasn’t, or tried not to think about it, Lovino couldn’t.

They were doomed from the start, because circumstance had forced them together and their relationship had changed so many times over the years that Lovino didn’t even know what they were anymore. He’d known for so long that they would inevitably end, and what had he done? Nothing.

It made him feel useless and a failure, which he guessed he should feel used to by now. Lovino couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something right. The one good thing he’d ever managed to have, was now the very thing tearing him apart.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Lovino ignored the question. Instead he focused on the rain tapping at the window, streaking across the glass. He didn’t want to talk about the thoughts running through his head, the thoughts of _stupid, useless, child_. He couldn’t even remember what had started this, what had made him think of all these things now, but it wasn’t important. What was important was keeping himself together.

“Lovi, talk to me,” Gilbert said, sitting next to him on the couch.

Lovino kept his mouth firmly shut. Gilbert had seen, or at least heard, him break down once already, he didn’t need to see it again. Even at the feeling of arms wrapping around him, of lips pressing against his hair, he stayed silent. Gilbert sighed, resting his chin atop Lovino’s head, staring out of the window.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Lovino nodded almost imperceptibly, unable to keep it to himself any longer. He barely registered himself making the motion, knowing only that his resolve had faltered. The relief he expected to feel never came, instead only more doubt made itself known. How long could Gilbert put up with him moping around like this? They’d barely been together for any time at all, and already the Prussian was probably getting sick of him.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need,” Gilbert said.

“Why would you want to help me?” Lovino demanded, struggling out of the embrace.

Gilbert looked at him questioningly, not wanting to provoke the Italian further.

“Why should you have to put up with all of-of this?” Lovino motioned to himself, letting his head fall into his hands in frustration.

Gilbert grabbed Lovino’s wrists gently, pulling his hands down to reveal the Italian’s face. Lovino pointedly ignored his gaze, eyes turned downwards. Gilbert was beginning to see how little Lovino thought of himself.

“I’m not putting up with anything. I’m helping someone I care about,” Gilbert said, linking his fingers with Lovino’s.

The Italian finally looked up, meeting Gilbert’s eyes. The Prussian silently begged him to talk, to tell him what was going through his minds. With a defeated sigh, Lovino dropped his head once more.

“Everything that’s happened is my fault,” he said quietly, hand limp within the ex-nation’s.

“What are you talking about?” Gilbert asked.

“Everything!” he exclaimed, growling in frustration. “ Antonio, and-and now you have to deal with this and…” Lovino could barely form a sentence, all he could do was string together half-thoughts and nonsense.

“You had a bad breakup, that’s not your fault,” Gilbert said calmly, leaning back into the couch. “It happens to everyone at some point.”

“But it _was_ my fault.” Lovino finally said what he’d been thinking all along.

“How?” Gilbert raised an eyebrow, releasing Lovino’s hands to fold his arms.

“I should’ve ended it earlier,” Lovino said, hands twisting in his lap, “but I didn’t.”

“You wanted it to work out. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to give up, a lot of people wouldn’t have bothered.”

“It still didn’t-“

“No matter what you did, someone was going to get hurt eventually. At least you can say you tried.” Gilbert said simply.

Lovino tried to smile, as much as he didn’t want to. He knew Gilbert had a point, he just couldn’t bring himself to accept it yet.

“ _Grazie_ , Gilbert,” Lovino said eventually, leaning forward to place a kiss on the Prussian’s cheek.

Gilbert smirked as Lovino moved back, grabbing the Italian’s arm and pulling him into his lap. Lovino was caught off guard, falling against Gilbert’s chest. He scowled instinctively, but after a few seconds he couldn’t stop a burst of laughter from escaping him.

“ _Idiota,_ ” Lovino said, shaking his head.

Gilbert wrapped an arm around Lovino, absentmindedly running a hand through the smaller nation’s hair. Lovino rearranged himself into a more comfortable position, leaning back against Gilbert. Like this it was easy to forget the hateful words that had spun in his mind earlier. Like this Lovino was reminded of one very important thing.

Yes, there were many things that he regretted, but Gilbert definitely wasn’t one of them.


	15. Book

Anyone who even remotely knew Gilbert Beilschmidt would tell you there was very little to know about him, and there were few people who would dispute them. He was as hyperactive as child, couldn’t go more than a few minutes without starting a fight and was always either getting drunk or into trouble. That was all those who didn’t take the time to get to know him ever had to say on the matter.

Which was probably why Lovino was so surprised to find him like this.

He’d never actually seen Gilbert reading before. The albino nation was too lively, too energetic, to do something as sedate as sit down and read a book. Yet that was what he was doing, completely absorbed in whatever novel he happened to be reading. From his position in the doorway, groceries in hand and coat dripping with rain, Lovino couldn’t make out the title. What he could make out was that Gilbert hadn’t noticed him opening the front door.

For a while he just stared, trying to reconcile his mental image of the Prussian with what he was seeing. The two things conflicted so much that Lovino could hardly recognised them as the same person.

“Hey bastard, I’m home,” Lovino finally said, slamming the door shut behind him.

Gilbert looked up from the book resting in his lap, a grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of Lovino walking over to the couch.

“Lovi!” he said, opening his arms to the Italian.

Rolling his eyes, Lovino set the groceries down on the table, quickly embracing the Prussian.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the book.

“A book,” Gilbert replied. Lovino swatted him on the arm, perching himself on the arm of the couch. It was the only way they were ever around the same height.

“I’d worked that much out for myself, genius.”

“Lovi hit me!” Gilbert whined, rubbing his arm and pouting. “That was _not_ awesome.”

“You can always go and find someone else’s couch to crash on if you don’t like it,” Lovino deadpanned, one eyebrow raised.

Gilbert grinned wickedly, pulling Lovino down into his lap and pressing their noses together.

“And leave my little Italian alone?” he asked, smirking. “That would be totally un-awesome of me.”

“Then man the fuck up,” Lovino said, feeling like he was about to hit Gilbert again.

He never got the chance. As Lovino struggled to think of a fitting insult to add, Gilbert kissed him, effectively shutting the Italian up. With a resigned huff that was entirely forced, Lovino allowed himself to move his lips against the Prussian’s, the book and groceries completely forgotten.


	16. Woods

Heart pounding, lungs burning, mind racing, he ran.

The forest passed in a blur, trees, leaves and roots all left behind as Lovino ran faster than he’d known he could. What he did know, through the blinding haze of alcohol and adrenaline, was that he couldn’t be caught.

They’d only wanted to have some fun, this was just a stupid kids’ game! But with fear was setting in, the entire thing seemed like a bad idea. How could something as innocent as a game of hide and seek turn so dark?

Oh yeah, Ivan was the one ‘seeking’.

In the darkness of a strange forest somewhere in Europe, Lovino silently regretted the decisions that had brought him here. Going to the after-meeting party. Getting drunk. Agreeing to this stupid, idiotic game. Gilbert had run off the second Ivan had started counting, in the opposite direction to Lovino. How long had he been running now? An hour? Longer?

Suddenly, the trees flying past him stopped, the ground coming upwards to meet him. A sharp pain in Lovino’s ankle was the only thing he felt before he thudded into the dirt. Twisting around, he squinted through the darkness to see his foot snagged on a tree root protruding from the mess of fallen leaves on the ground. It throbbed slightly, but there wasn’t time to worry about that. He had to keep moving.

Freeing himself, Lovino tried to keep running. Putting weight on his ankle was difficult, forcing him to limp, but he ran anyway.

A thud echoed nearby. Lovino stopped again instantly, straining his ears over the sound of his ragged breathing and pulse pounding in his ears. The sound had come from ahead of him, had he been running towards Ivan this whole time?

“Sheiße!”

Even if the voice hadn’t given it away, there was only one nation that would be swearing loudly in German. Lovino relaxed slightly, still on edge as he moved slowly towards the source of the voice.

“Gilbert?” Lovino’s voice was a hissed whisper, meant only to attract the attention of the Prussian.

“Lovino!” And of course, Gilbert yelled as loudly as ever in response.

Half-dragging his ankle behind him, Lovino slowly made his way towards the Prussian. When the taller, white-haired nation stepped out from behind a tree, Lovino jumped back in fright. Only when he realised that they were considerably shorter than Russia did Lovino realise it was Gilbert.

“Lovi!” Gilbert cried, throwing himself at the Italian. Lovino winced as weight was forced onto his bad ankle, pushing the albino away with one hand. He noticed a red mark in the centre of Gilbert’s forehead, wondering what had caused it.

“Where the hell where you?” Lovino demanded quietly, knowing that Ivan could be nearby. “And what the hell happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” Gilbert asked, still struggling to hug Lovino and completely disregarding the second question.

“Ivan stated counting, and you immediately ran off _in the opposite direction to me_!” Lovino forced himself not to shout, growling quietly in exasperation.

Suddenly, a hand clamped over both of their mouths. Lovino was ready to bolt, until Francis stepped out from behind the same tree, perfectly manicured hands pulling away.

“It might be a good idea to keep your voices down, _non_?”

Immediately Lovino was wondering how much Francis had heard, what he knew, if he was suspecting anything. Gilbert opened his mouth to reply, failed to come up with a response, and closed his mouth again. Lovino slammed his palm to his face, sighing.

“Can we just get out of this damn forest already?” the Italian asked. If Francis knew anything, he wasn’t saying anything yet. The other two nodded. “So how do we get out of here?”

Francis and Gilbert looked to each other, shrugging, before turning back to Lovino. Annoyance cancelling out his fear, at least for the time being, Lovino limped forward, grabbed both of them by the arm, and started walking, forcing both of them to scramble in an awkward backwards-walk to avoid falling on their asses. Lovino didn’t slow down. They had to be moving to have a chance to get away.

“Why are you limping?” Francis stared in concern at Lovino’s ankle, which he was still avoiding putting too much weight on.

“I tripped and fell,” Lovino said grudgingly, still dragging both Francis and Gilbert behind him.

The two escaped his grip, turning so they were all walking in the same direction and stared down at him with concern. It was one of those moments when Lovino really hated being short. Even without an injury, the other two could easily keep up with him, making it hard for Lovino to walk away defiantly.

“Then you should not be walking on it,” Francis said simply.

Gilbert was being unusually quiet during the whole exchange. If Francis hadn’t been there, Lovino would have been determined to find out why. As it was, he stared straight ahead, intent on getting out of the forest, away from the trees that felt like they were crushing him, and away from Ivan, away from being hunted. The whole thing was making Lovino feel claustrophobic.

“Lovino, at least let us help you,” Francis said as he placed a hand on Lovino’s shoulder, serious for once.

“Figure out where we’re going, that’ll help me,” Lovino grumbled, still struggling and failing to outpace them.

As if they’d synchronised it-which they probably had, the bastards-Francis and Gilbert each took one of Lovino’s arms, each helping to support his weight. Lovino wanted to struggle, but he knew what that would lead to. Neither one of them would hesitate to pick him up and carry him out of the forest like a stupid, useless child. Damn it, why couldn’t he be taller? Then they wouldn’t be able to drag him around so easily and-

Sighing, Lovino refocused his attention on trying to keep up with them. It was hard to do without worsening the pain in his ankle. He knew that Gilbert was intentionally walking slower than usual, so Lovino could match his strides. The thought made him smile slightly, though if it hadn’t been near pitch black he never would’ve shown it.

Suddenly Francis stopped, brow furrowing in concentration. Lovino stopped too, secretly glad for the small respite, straining his ears against the sounds of the forest. Gilbert stared at the two of them like they’d gone mad.

Then they heard a twig snapping.

“ _Merde,”_ Francis cursed, the blood draining from his face.

Lovino listened intently, eyes downwards as he held his breath.

“It might not be him…” Gilbert muttered, now silent too.

“You will become one with mother Russia, _da_?” The voice was dangerously close to them.

“It’s him!” Lovino yelled.

“Run!”

Lovino didn’t know who’d said it. He was too busy trying to sprint away, the pain in his ankle intensifying with every step but nothing compared to what would happen if Ivan caught him. Then suddenly there was no weight on his injury, because Lovino had been lifted off of the ground and was being carried-by Gilbert.

“Hey!” Lovino gasped, fighting his instincts to struggle out of the ex-nation’s grip. They had to get away, that was all that was important right now.

“Have we lost him yet?” Gilbert called to France, a few steps behind them.

“I don’t know!” Francis yelled back, madly trying to catch up with the Prussian.

Lovino clung to Gilbert, unable to do anything but hold on as he was carried bumpily through the forest. By the time the trees started to thin, the gaps between the trunks growing larger, Gilbert was out of breath and they still didn’t know if they’d managed to escape Ivan yet.

The forest came to an abrupt end, opening up onto a flat plain stretching into the distance. It wasn’t much better than the trees, but they were safe here. The game limits were within the forest. Gilbert placed Lovino carefully on the ground, minding his ankle, before slumping against a tree, panting heavily. Francis burst out of the trees moments later, nearly giving both of them a heart attack before they realised it was him.

“Did you see him following us?” Lovino asked, lowering himself to sit with his back against a tree trunk.

“I didn’t stop to look,” Francis said, bracing himself against a tree and hunching forward, trying to catch his breath.

All three of them nearly died of fright when two more nations ran out from between the trees. Alfred collapsed on the ground before Lovino, breathing ragged, and Arthur cleared his throat at noticing the three already there, attempting to stand upright despite his obvious exhaustion.

“ _Angleterre,_ you’re alive!” Francis said, nearly tackling Arthur to the ground as he jumped at him.

“Get off of me you bloody git!” Arthur practically shrieked, trapped by the strength of Francis’ embrace.

“Dude, what’s going on?” Alfred demanded, peering around randomly as he sat up. Lovino noticed for the first time the lack of glasses on his nose.

“I’m being attacked, that’s what!” England said, finally squirming out of Francis’ grip and dusting himself off.

“What happened to you two?” Gilbert asked, looking the both of them over.

“I broke Texas!” Alfred wailed, still squinting at all of them. Everyone but Arthur stared at him, confused.

“He means his glasses,” Arthur explained. “And what about you lot? You’re all looking a little worse for wear.”

Before any of them could answer, Alfred interjected.

“It wasn’t my fault! Someone put that tree there,” he insisted.

“Ja, they just appeared out of nowhere!” Gilbert agreed.

“What are _you_ talking about?” Lovino demanded, staring up at him. Gilbert rubbed the bruise forming on his forehead and shifted his eyes in response.

“We should call everyone, tell them the game’s over. I can’t imagine no one else got hurt running around in the dark like that,” Arthur said, pulling out his phone.

Lovino hugged his knees to his chest, shivering slightly. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the cold was getting to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement. Francis had dragged Gilbert back into the trees slightly, and Lovino had to tune out Arthur’s phone call to hear what they were saying.

“What is going on with you two?” Francis whispered, leaning in close to Gilbert.

“What are you talking about?” Gilbert asked, and Lovino knew he was trying to brush it off, act casual. They’d both agreed that nobody could know about them. Not yet.

Stealing a quick glance, Lovino saw Francis staring intently at Gilbert, scrutinising him. The Prussian chuckled nervously, running a hand through his unruly silver hair.

“Don’t let Antonio catch you two,” Francis said simply, before flouncing back towards the group, leaving a stunned Gilbert in his wake. If the circumstances had been different, Lovino would have been enjoying the rare look of surprise on Gilbert’s face.

Turning back to the others, Lovino hoped Francis hadn’t caught him eavesdropping. A hand rested itself gently on his shoulder, and Lovino turned his head up to meet blue eyes staring intently down at him.

“Take care of him.”

The Francis was swaggering off towards Arthur, and Lovino was left staring after him, a mix of apprehension and fear growing in his chest.


	17. Fire

Lovino didn’t understand why Gilbert had to look so _smug_ about the whole thing.

The blankets wrapped around the Italian did nothing to keep out the cold. Lovino’s skin felt like ice, frozen to the point it was making him nauseous. He was reminded why he hated winter.

Because he always got sick.

Of course, Gilbert seemed almost excited to fuss over the Italian. Lovino wanted it to be over, so he could go back to whatever he would be doing otherwise rather than curled up on the floor in front of the fire. He’d started on the couch, gradually moving closer until he was practically on top of the fireplace. The floor wasn’t as comfortable, but theoretically is was supposed to be warmer there so he refused to retreat to the couch.

Lovino wondered idly if it was his people that were causing this, or if it was something that he himself had done. In hindsight, running around a forest in the middle of the night probably hadn’t been a good idea, but there was nothing Lovino could do about that now.

A pair of lean arms wrapped around him from behind, a pointed chin resting on his shoulder. Lovino curled further in on himself, whining quietly as the blankets shifted, cold air hitting his skin.

“Kesese, Lovi needs taking care of,” Gilbert said, smirking as he scooped a protesting Italian into his lap.

“Bastard,” Lovino mumbled quietly, even further buried within the mountain of blankets surrounding him.

“I’m just being awesome and taking care of my little Italian,” Gilbert said, adjusting the blankets so they covered more of Lovino.

“I don’t need taking care of,” Lovino said, somehow managing to cross his arms. “I need to be warm.”

In an instant, Gilbert had found his way into Lovino’s blanket fortress, pulling the Italian against his chest. Lovino was too sick to argue or struggle too much, and he _was_ warmer this way, so he only grumbled a little.

“Warm yet?” Gilbert asked after a few minutes, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Shut up,” Lovino said, pressing himself closer to Gilbert.

The Prussian’s heartbeat thudded in his ears, steady and comforting. Slowly warmth began seeping into Lovino’s skin, and his eyelids drooped. Gilbert tightened his grip on the Italian protectively, feeling the small body in his arms relax.

Lovino was surprised by how easily he was able to trust the ex-nation. He’d gotten used to Gilbert so quickly that his presence seemed normal now. The thought was almost troubling, playing on Lovino’s mind as he sank further into unconsciousness. He wasn’t sure if he imagined the feeling of a kiss been placed on his hair, but it was the last thing he felt before drifting off to sleep. He knew that Gilbert was there, warm and solid against him, and that was enough to put him at ease.

And the next week, when Gilbert came down with a cold, Lovino was only too happy to take care of him. Even if he’d never admit it.


	18. Perception

It really came down to how well you know them.

Lovino Vargas, the sour, forgotten older brother, and Gilbert Beilschmidt, the cocky, annoying ghost of a former nation. They were opposites. Quiet and loud, arrogant and self-doubting. There was nothing that would draw them together. If anything, it seemed as though they should repel one another.

Lovino snapped at anyone for anything, no matter whether he was annoyed or not. The idea of him putting up with Gilbert’s constant jibes and taunts, without accidentally murdering the Prussian, was practically unthinkable. And Gilbert, who was best friends with Antonio and Francis, whose presence was impossibly large, who was louder even than possible even in the rare moments he was silent, what could he possibly see in the brooding Italian? Surely he would be more satisfied by someone louder, someone more confident, someone more _important_.

And yet, they worked.

It wasn’t perfect. Neither of them really knew what they were doing. Even the smallest things could dissolve into fights. But they were trying, and for the most part they were succeeding. Somehow they were together, and that was the important part.

Sometimes they were reminded of these things. When they were thinking too much, or heard an offhand comment made by a nation that thought they knew what they were talking about, these were the things they thought about. Sometimes it was terrifying, an inescapable reminder that they shouldn’t be together, that they shouldn’t be working. They couldn’t possibly last…could they?

But sometimes, more often than not, the thoughts weren’t like that. They could be comforting as much as they could be terrifying. Gilbert could remember that he hadn’t been forgotten. Somebody remembered him, _saw_ him. He remembered all the time he’d watched Lovino with Spain, imagining himself in the Spaniard’s place, imagining what that kind of life would be like. Now when those thoughts entered his head, they weren’t fantasies, they were his reality. Gilbert had finally succeeded in something. Not _everything_ had been taken from him.

Lovino had finally found someone that liked him for who he was now. Not someone who wanted his brother. Not someone who wanted him to be the defenceless child he’d once been. Gilbert knew what he was now, had watched him growing up with the Prussian’s best friend, and still wanted him.

If anybody ever found out, they would probably warn both of them that it would never work. The world always thought it knew best, but not this time. What nobody would ever understand was that they _needed_ each other. They were good for one another.


	19. Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: Character must go for a walk

Lovino sighed, shifting on the couch and trying to focus on the TV. The house was unusually quiet, which somehow made it harder to watch whatever was on. Honestly, Lovino hadn’t been paying attention from the beginning. As annoying as he claimed Gilbert to be, he’d already gotten used to the Prussian’s presence, and his home almost felt empty without him galloping down the hallways, stomping his feet, yelling and just generally being loud.

Maybe Lovino should call him. He’d been gone over an hour now, that couldn’t mean anything good. Unless Gilbert usually spent this long going for a walk. It occurred to the Italian that he didn’t really know, and maybe he should have, but he didn’t. So for all he knew Gilbert would be back soon enough, and if Lovino called him he would just seem needy. It was enough to keep him from reaching for the phone. For now.

* * *

Gilbert was definitely lost. Not just a little bit lost but really, really lost.  
He was an hour, a few miles, several flights of stairs and more unfamiliar streets than he could count kind of lost. It was bad, and he definitely regretted going for a walk now.  
Gilbird chirped happily as Gilbert turned yet another corner, hoping this would be the one to bring him back to somewhere familiar. As he realised he’d never seen any of the buildings lining the road before, he collapsed against the wall, groaning in frustration. Gilbird hopped onto the hand Gilbert lifted to his shoulder, fluffing up his feathers as he was raised to eye height.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it,” Gilbert said dramatically, throwing an arm across his face. “We’re going to die here, defeated by architecture! We’re going to starve because we have no potatoes!”

The few onlookers hurrying down the street glanced warily at the albino man yelling at a small yellow bird. Any one of them probably could have given Gilbert directions, if the Prussian had thought of that.

* * *

It was beginning to get dark…screw looking clingy, he was actually getting concerned about the Prussian bastard. Lovino finally grabbed his phone, dialling the number. It nearly rang out, and Lovino chewed his lip as he waited.

Just as he’d stopped listening, the phone stopped ringing.

“Lovi!”

* * *

Gilbert’s imminent death from starvation was interrupted by a strange buzzing. It took Gilbert a few moments to register that his phone was ringing. Confused, he lifted Gilbird to his shoulder and started looking for the source. Useless junk and knick-knacks were piled up on the street as Gilbert emptied his pockets. Finally, he withdrew his hand, phone held in his fingers. The caller ID read ‘Awesome Italian’. Grinning, earlier delusions forgotten, he accepted the call.

“Lovi!”

Lovino hadn’t realised the phone had stopped dialling. At the sound of Gilbert’s voice, he jumped slightly, letting out a breath that he hadn’t known he’d been holding

“Where are you?” Oh shit, he hadn’t meant to say that. He wasn’t supposed to just ask, he-

“On a street,” Gilbert replied quickly.

“What street?” Lovino asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Uh…” Then it clicked.

“You’d better not be fucking lost.” There was no answer. “Idiot, how long have you been trying to get back here?”

“About an hour,” Gilbert admitted. Lovino had a sudden urge to slam his face into his palm.

“And you didn’t call to ask for direction because?” he asked. Again, no response. “You forgot you had your phone, didn’t you?”

“There were no phones in battle!” Gilbert finally replied indignantly. Lovino gave in to temptation and slammed his face into his palm. If this kept up, he was going to have permanent bruises.

“You’re not in battle!”

There was silence for a few seconds, the only sound on the call Gilbird cheeping in the background. Lovino was the one to break it.

“Where are you, exactly?” he asked.

“The awesome me doesn’t need help!” Gilbert insisted.

“Find your own way home then,” Lovino snapped, but he was smirking. “See you when you get here.”

He moved to hang up, as if he actually intended to do it. As he moved the phone from his ear, Gilbert’s distinctive voice burst from the speakers.

“Lovi, wait!” Gilbert yelled. There was a pause, and then, “the awesome me might need some help.”

Lovino wondered if Gilbert heard the muttered bastardo before he started trying to figure out where Gilbert was.

* * *

It took another hour for Lovino to first figure out the street Gilbert was describing from his annoyingly unhelpful descriptions and then to actually get there. When he did, he

found Gilbert curled up against a wall, Gilbird resting in his hair.

“You look like a beggar,” Lovino said, staring down at the Prussian.

“You found me!” Gilbert said, grabbing the Italian’s arm and pulling him down to embrace him.

“Hey! Let go of me, bastard!”

Gilbert reluctantly let go of a cursing Italian, standing up as Lovino dusted himself off. Lovino scowled as Gilbert stood, grumbling about having to come running through the streets when it was almost dark to look for him, but they both knew he didn’t really mean it.

“Admit it, you were lonely without me,” Gilbert said as he slung an arm around Lovino’s shoulders.

“Shut up,” Lovino said, elbowing him in the ribs.

“You did miss me, I knew it!” Gilbert said. Lovino rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go home already, bastard.”

Gilbert couldn’t explain the tightening in his chest as Lovino said those words. He knew, without asking, that Lovino didn’t mean ‘my home’, he meant ‘our home’. And somehow, hearing that spoken aloud was worth getting lost for.


	20. Song #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Song-Apologize by OneRepublic

“If there are no more matters to discuss, that brings an end to the meeting.”

Ludwig’s voice rang clear across the meeting room, which was silent for once. Everyone held their breath, hoping no one else would bring something up that would inevitably spiral into an hour long debate, and that was only if they were lucky. When no one spoke, the nations breathed a collective sigh. The sound of shuffling papers echoed throughout the room as nations gathered their things, everyone slowly filing out. Conversations sprang up between groups of nations, talks of dinner, drinking and travel plans. Lovino was just glad the week-long gathering of nations had finally come to an end.

As he walked through the halls, still organising his notes, Lovino barely thought about where he was going, or that the fact that he was alone. A hand suddenly laid itself on his shoulder, pulling him to a stop. Thinking it was Gilbert, Lovino whipped around, fully intending to tell him to piss off.

The words died in his throat as he saw who it really was.

“Antonio?”

“Lovi, I need to talk to you.”

Lovino’s first instinct was to step back, out of his reach, which he did. Hurt flashed in the Spaniard’s eyes as his hand dropped to his side.

“Don’t call me that,” Lovino hissed, crossing his arms in front of him. It was as much to look assertive as it was to hide the fact that they were shaking.

“Lovi-” Antonio stopped himself. “Lovino, please.”

Lovino looked over his shoulder, hoping somebody, anybody, was there, but everyone was gone. He wished that they weren’t alone, so he could catch up to whoever was there and Antonio wouldn’t be able to stop him from leaving. He knew that even if he turned and walked away, Antonio would follow him. And there was no way he could outrun the taller nation.

“What do you want?” he finally growled out, trying to hide his rising panic.

Lovino remembered the last time he’d fought with Antonio, how well that had turned out for him. There was no part of him that wanted to repeat that, but he had no choice. Antonio was giving him no choice.

“I want you back.” Antonio’s voice was small, but it still made Lovino recoil in disgust.

“After what you did?” Lovino snapped. “No way in hell.”

How could Antonio think he had the right? He couldn’t just walk up to Lovino and expect him to let everything go back to the way it had been. There was no way Lovino would ever let that happen.

“You said you needed me,” Antonio begged, voice barely a whisper. He actually looked sincere, but Lovino knew better than to trust that face.

“I did, when I was a child. I don’t need you anymore, we both know it. You want me to rely on you, and I can’t.”

Antonio looked as if he’d just been slapped. Then in an instant, the shock turned to anger, twisting his features until they were barely recognisable to the nation who had once spent so long studying them. Antonio surged forward, grabbing Lovino by the arm. The Spaniard’s fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises, forcing a hiss from the Italian’s lips.

“Let go,” Lovino said, his voice cracking just the tiniest bit from fear. There was rage in Antonio’s eyes, wild and terrifying. “Let go!”

There was nothing between them but the sound of their ragged breathing, and the pain where Antonio’s fingers were still clutching Lovino’s arm.

Slowly, the haze clouding emerald eyes cleared, anger fading from Antonio’s expression. His gaze flickered down to Lovino’s arm, still held in his own, then up to the Italian’s eyes, finally seeing the fear Lovino had been trying to hide. Where there had been first pain and then anger, there was now fear. Antonio was afraid of what he’d been able to do to the nation he claimed to love.

“Let go of me,” Lovino said slowly, clearly.

Antonio hesitantly released his grip, eyes locked with Lovino’s.

“Lovi, _please_.” The look in his eyes nearly did it. Lovino so very nearly broke, he nearly said yes. With just one look, he was almost willing to forget what had happened.

But then he remembered the way they’d broken down. They’d started off fine, the perfect couple even, but they just didn’t work, no matter how much either of them wanted things to be otherwise. There was nothing that could be done to change that. No amount of trying could change the fact that they simply weren’t compatible.

“I’m not interested,” Lovino said flatly. Keeping his voice steady in that one moment was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

Then Lovino turned, and walked away. He tried not to think about Antonio’s expression as he’d left, or the way he could still feel the Spaniard’s grip on his arm. They weren’t tears that were spilling down his cheeks, they _weren’t_! He wiped his eyes furiously, determined to get back to the hotel as quickly as possible, lock himself in his room and forget this had ever happened. He was suddenly exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep.

“Lovi, wait up!”

This time, Lovino knew the hand on his shoulder was Gilbert’s. That didn’t stop him from shaking it off, increasing the pace of his steps.

“Lovi, what’s wrong?” Gilbert asked. When Lovino turned around, the Prussian’s expression mirrored Antonio’s almost perfectly-hurt and confusion.

“Nothing,” Lovino mumbled, walking faster, hands shoved in his pockets. Even Gilbert reminded him of Antonio now.

Outside the building where they’d held the meeting, the air was cool as night approached. Two sets of footsteps echoed as one across the stone ground, perfectly in sync. If it was possible, Gilbert might be even more stubborn than Antonio, once he’d made his mind up.

“You’re obviously lying,” Gilbert said. “Come on, tell me.”

Lovino stayed silent the entire way to the hotel, completely ignoring Gilbert’s attempt to get him to talk. The Prussian finally got fed up when Lovino pulled out the key to his room, shaking so much that he couldn’t unlock the door. Gilbert placed his hand over Lovino’s, who silently swore at letting the albino see his weakness, his fear, and guided the key into the lock. The door swung open.

“What’s wrong?” Gilbert asked again, pulling Lovino around to face him. He studied the Italian’s resolute features, hoping for a glimpse of what had happened.

And then it was all too much. Lovino looked down, breath coming in shaking gasps as he fought to hold back sobs.

“Sheiße, Lovi don’t cry.” Gilbert panicked, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t good with tears, he never knew what to do. It was made even more difficult by the fact that it was Lovino, who never cried. What was he supposed to _do_?

Tucking the Italian under his arm, Gilbert steered Lovino into the room. The door slammed shut behind them, sealing them off from the rest of the world. Now it was just the two of them, no Antonio, no complications.

Gilbert seated himself on the couch, tugging on Lovino’s arm, right over the bruises Antonio had left, hidden by his shirtsleeve. Lovino’s entire body shook as he was pulled into Gilbert’s lap, shook with anger and rage and tears that had been waiting far too long to be shed. The past was supposed to stay in the past, where it belonged. Antonio had no right to go dragging it up, forcing what _he_ wanted on Lovino, especially after they were done. After what _he_ had done.

Gilbert held him, overwhelmed but determined, and this way they were almost the same height so he could see Lovino’s face.

“It was Antonio again, wasn’t it?” Gilbert said, and Lovino wondered if he’d imagined the exasperation in his voice.

Lovino nodded, fighting to regain his breath, to push down the panic rising in his chest. He felt like someone was forcing the air from his lungs, pushing him into a space that was far too small and taunting him, because that’s what the little voice in the back of his head was doing. Gilbert wouldn’t put up with this forever. Antonio would always be there, Lovino knew he couldn’t ever get over him, not really, not when Antonio was hell-bent on getting the Italian back. Gilbert hadn’t signed on for that. He would get fed up, and leave Lovino, and he would be alone again.

“What did he do?” Gilbert asked. He put a hand on Lovino’s arm, and it was meant to be comforting but it was right where the bruises were, so Lovino couldn’t help but flinch and recoil in pain.

The shift in Gilbert’s attitude was immediate. One second he was doing his best to deal with an emotional Italian sitting in his lap. The next his eyes were burning with anger, body rigid. Lovino could feel the rage emanating from him, electrifying the air.

“Did he hurt you?” Gilbert demanded, voice low. When Lovino didn’t respond, “did he hurt you?” and Gilbert was resisting the urge to throttle the answer out of Lovino.

Lovino’s gaze darted to his arm against this will, to the spot where Gilbert’s hand still hovered. Gilbert’s intensity was terrifying, a side to the Prussian that Lovino had never seen before. He stayed completely still as Gilbert pushed his jacket away, letting it fall to the floor, and trembled nearly imperceptibly as the buttons on his shirt were undone with such a slow, methodical determination that it took all of his self-control not to shove Gilbert away. A pale hand slowly pushed Lovino’s shirt across his shoulder, down his arm to reveal bruises just beginning to blossom with colour.

For what felt like a long time, nothing happened. Lovino was too enraptured by Gilbert’s sudden seriousness to worry about being self-conscious. Gilbert was too busy thinking up new and inventive ways to kill a certain Spaniard to do anything but stare.

“Toni did this to you?” Gilbert asked, voice eerily calm. Lovino nodded, gently pushing Gilbert’s hand away so he could pull his shirt back up. Gilbert’s fist slammed into the side of the couch, his red eyes wide and unfocused. “That bastard.”

If it had been any other time, Lovino would have made a snide remark about Gilbert starting to sound like him. As it was, he was too scared to be anything but silent. Slowly, Gilbert unclenched his fist, letting his arm drop back to his side. Lovino exhaled quietly, convinced that the worst was over, that Gilbert was beginning to calm down.

“I’m fine,” Lovino said eventually, folding his arms across his chest. He was no longer shaking, and he could actually breathe now.

“He hurt you,” Gilbert said. There was still anger in his voice, but it was fading, quickly being replaced by concern.

“They’re bruises. They’ll heal.”

He knew Gilbert wanted to push it further. If Lovino had been in his place, that’s what he would’ve done. If it was someone he cared about with bruises on their arm, if it was _Feliciano_ , there wouldn’t be a force on Earth that could stop him. But it wasn’t someone Lovino cared about. He wasn’t worth Gilbert’s worry, he’d been through worse without anyone there and he’d been fine then. He’d be fine now.

What he expected was Gilbert to try and get him to talk. He half expected him to punch the couch again. What Lovino definitely did not expect was Gilbert to put a hand on the back of his neck and smash their lips together, kissing him forcefully. Lovino couldn’t help the squeak that escaped his mouth at the unexpectedness of the motion. Before he could react, Gilbert was pulling back, resting their foreheads together.

“If he hurts you again, I’ll rip him apart,” he growled.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Lovino insisted.

“I don’t care, next time that bastard comes near you, he’s dead.”


	21. Beach

Neither of them really knew where they were. Lovino probably should have, it was his country after all, but they hadn’t been paying attention. They could find their way back to the car when they needed to, but until then it neither of them wanted to think about anything other than the beach they were walking along, and the presence of the other beside them.

“What time does your flight leave?” Lovino asked, trying to memorise the feeling of the arm resting across his shoulders.

“Seven,” Gilbert replied, voice quiet.

In only a few hours Gilbert would go back to Berlin, and Lovino would stay in Italy.

The beach they’d found was more stone than sand, stretches of pebbles dotted occasionally with patches of white. The sea was a dull grey, winter refusing to give way to spring. It was fitting, really.

Gilbert didn’t want to leave, and Lovino didn’t want to see him go, but Ludwig had been getting suspicious about all the time the Prussian had been spending away from home. There wasn’t another way, not with how Lovino complained so much every time he had to stay in Germany.

Gilbert’s arm tightened around Lovino’s shoulders, just enough for the Italian to notice, and lean into his side. It was colder on the coast, but they couldn’t bring themselves to go back to the car, to the reality of a suitcase sitting on the back seat.

“How long until you can come back?” Lovino asked, sighing slightly as a hand petted through his hair.

“I don’t know,” Gilbert replied honestly. “However long it takes me to find an excuse to give West.”

Lovino nodded, holding the hand resting on his shoulder in his own. It felt too solid, too real, to be gone in just a few hours.

“We should probably start walking back to the car,” Lovino eventually said.

“Ja, we should,” Gilbert replied. Even he was subdued today.

They trekked back to the car in silence, neither one knowing what to say. It was their first real separation since they’d been together, the first time they were going to be apart without knowing when they would see each other again.

When they climbed into the car, they didn’t leave right away. For a few minutes they sat there without speaking, hands joined and staring straight ahead. Lovino was the one to break the silence.

“You wouldn’t have to leave if people knew about us.”

“Not even my awesomeness could survive Antonio if he found out. _When_ he finds out.”

Lovino nodded, finally starting the car. He wished he wasn’t so afraid of Antonio. Not just afraid of what he would do when he found out, but afraid of hurting him. And it wasn’t just Antonio that couldn’t find out, it was anyone. The fact that Francis had figured it out was bad enough, but rumours spread like wildfire amongst nations.  The second their secret got out, _everyone_ would know about it.

“It won’t be like this forever,” Gilbert said as they drove.

“Won’t it?” Lovino had a hard time believing that. It felt like they would always be this, two forgotten nations sneaking around, trying to avoid the inevitable.

“No, it won’t,” Gilbert affirmed.

It was hard for Lovino to say goodbye, when the time came. He had too many bad memories with that word, with people he’d loved, or people he’d thought had loved him. Gilbert said it, and that was enough for both of them. Lovino never wanted Gilbert to let go of him as the albino wrapped his arms around the shorter man. But his flight was called, and he had to.

Then he was on the plane.

And Lovino was alone.


	22. Quote #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Quote-You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams

In the three weeks he’d been back in Berlin, Gilbert had slept worse than he had in centuries. How could it be possible to get so used to not sleeping alone so quickly? No matter what he did, his own bed felt cold and empty when it was just him in it.

It had taken him hours to finally fall asleep, only to be woken up after what felt like ten minutes. Glancing at the clock, illuminated numbers glowing in the darkness, he saw that it had only ten minutes. And he quickly realised exactly what had woken him.

He wasn’t alone.

The bed was no longer cold, but warm, and the mattress dipped beside him where a small body lay. A small, Italian body.

“Lovi?” Gilbert practically yelled, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth. Waking his brother and Feliciano now would be a bad idea.

“Sleeping,” came the grumpy reply as Lovino shifted closer to Gilbert, eyes closed and warm breath washing across the Prussian’s bare chest.

“What are you doing here?” Gilbert demanded, half convinced he was still dreaming.

“It’s freezing.” Lovino said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like those two words explained everything about their current situation. It did nothing to help with Gilbert’s confusion.

“How the hell did you get into my bed?” he said, still struggling to comprehend what was happening.

“Do you want me to leave?” Lovino asked, smirking.

“…no,” Gilbert conceded.

“Then shut up, bastard.”

And that was effectively the end of that.

Even though Gilbert was still exhausted, and sleeping should have been far easier now that Lovino was beside him, he found himself reluctant to close his eyes. Lovino was too perfect, too relaxed and calm, to consider taking his eyes off of for a second. There weren’t many nations who could have seen this side of Lovino. Antonio certainly, and probably Feliciano, but Gilbert could think of no others. He felt like he was witnessing something secret, something forbidden. Something he’d done little to deserve.

Even as his eyelids grew heavy and he was forced to lay his head down, the sight of Lovino completely at ease beside him was still burnt into his mind.

Gilbert was the one to wake first, slowly blinking back into consciousness. Light streamed through the gap in the curtains, landing somewhere in the centre of the floor and lighting up the room. For a few moments he recalled Lovino’s presence as a dream, until the creaking of bedsprings reminded him that he hadn’t been dreaming.

Lovino was actually beside him.

And as much as Gilbert wanted to let him sleep, so he could continue looking as peaceful as he did in that moment, his need for answers was too great.

“Lovi, wake up,” Gilbert said, shaking the shorter nation gently.

Lovino groaned and swatted his hands away, slowly rubbing sleep from his eyes. Gilbert watched with impatience, waiting for Lovino to finally look up at him, blinking tiredly.

“What do you want?” Lovino growled. Clearly he was still tired.

“As much as I love having a cute Italian in my bed, how the hell did you get here?” Gilbert asked, one eyebrow raised.

Lovino blushed and let out a stream of half-formed insults in Italian. Finally he sat up, shirt unbuttoned slightly and falling off his shoulders.

“My train broke down. I called Feliciano to come pick me up, and he was staying here,” Lovino explained, bored. “So now I am too, apparently.”

“Train?” Gilbert questioned, more confused than he had been before Lovino began his explanation. Lovino sighed.

“I got called out on business, long story.” He shrugged.

“And you’re in _my_ bed because?” Gilbert asked, smirking. Lovino blushed an even brighter shade of red.

“I was…lonely, alright?” he snapped out, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Gilbert chuckled, pulling Lovino close and kissing him quickly. They could deal with Ludwig and Feliciano later, and with sneaking Lovino back into his own room. For now, they had three weeks’ worth of catching up to do, and Gilbert was eager to get started.


	23. Song #3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Song-Lost in Stereo by All Time Low

It was hard to figure out when it all went wrong.

Lovino had slipped away so slowly, becoming more and more distant until finally he was gone. It wasn’t a static process, wasn’t caused by a single word or thought or deed. What had happened was an accumulation of years of miscommunication, misunderstandings and wrong decisions that only ever took them deeper down the rabbit hole. It had been the biggest shock of his life when Antonio came home to Lovino waiting, bags packed, to leave, but it had also been inevitable from the beginning. They’d been running on different frequencies for months, but Antonio had never thought things were this bad.

From the moment they met, they had always been heading towards the end.

Lovino had always been trouble, but Antonio had always been willing to put up with him. Well, more than willing. It was half the reason Antonio had loved him. Half the reason he _still_ loved him.

There had been a time when Lovino lived for Antonio. When he’d admitted that, told the Spaniard that he needed him, Antonio thought what they had was special. He had thought then that they could survive anything.

Apparently, they couldn’t.

The day Lovino left, Antonio had begged him to stay, until Lovino finally snapped. He’d blown up at Antonio, telling him all the reasons they could never work. Then Antonio had snapped, and he would never forget what had happened then.

When Lovino had left, Antonio felt like he’d taken a part of him too. It was a part of himself the Spaniard didn’t know if he could live without.

He’d waited so long for Lovino to return his feelings, now he wondered if he should have given up years ago. Antonio wondered if they’d ever had anything more than friendship, if they ever should have. Maybe they’d been wrong, maybe they were too close, too much like family, to ever work out. Maybe Antonio had forced him into it. Maybe neither of them would ever really know if what they’d shared had been worth the pain it brought now.

Maybe, even after so long together, Antonio knew nothing about Lovino.

Just being around Lovino left Gilbert breathless. His entire attitude could switch in a moment, keeping up with him was exhausting. But to Gilbert, that was part of the fun.

And Lovino _was_ fun. Even when he was at his most difficult, Gilbert wanted to be around the Italian. He enjoyed being close to him, bantering with him and having actual conversations with him. Gilbert had spent a long time seeing nothing special about Lovino. He was never alone, always with Antonio, and the Spaniard was far too protective to ever let anyone close to Lovino. Gilbert often wondered if that was part of the reason Lovino had left him.

But the way Lovino was now, it had to be the way he was supposed to be.

Gilbert could never get enough of Lovino just being himself, being happy. The fact that he spent most of his time scowling and throwing out insults just made the times when he smiled or laughed that much better. It was like he became an entirely different person when he was enjoying himself, and yet he was still completely _Lovino_.

These were the things Gilbert knew about Lovino, the things he noticed and remembered. In the few months they’d been together, he’d seen a side of the Italian that most of the world didn’t know had existed.

And if what they had didn’t survive, Gilbert knew it would be worth it just to have seen that side of Lovino.


	24. Warmth (NSFW)

It wasn’t supposed to be this cold. Winter was long gone, and most of the day had been wasted trying to stay warm. Lovino should have been sleeping, but even with Gilbert in it his bed was too cold. Instead he had come out to the fireplace, curling up in front of the hearth with his head resting on his arms and his knees tucked into his chest. The flames crackled quietly, gently warming Lovino as he slowly relaxed.

It definitely wasn’t the first time Lovino had slept in front of the fire. Being Southern Italy, he was less used to the cold than his _fratello_. Just one more thing he could envy Feliciano for. It wasn’t that he minded having a warmer climate, he just wished that summer would hurry up and get here.

He was almost asleep when the sound of footsteps echoed through the house, growing louder as they approached the living room. Lovino grudgingly lifted his head as pale feet appeared in his vision, gaze rising until emerald eyes met crimson ones.

“Hey,” Gilbert said, smirking down at him. Lovino groaned and dropped his head back against his arms.

Laughing tiredly, Gilbert sat with his back against the couch, pulling Lovino to him. The Italian grumbled, but sighed contentedly as he relaxed against Gilbert’s chest. For someone that could act so cold, Gilbert managed to stay pretty warm. The arms that came to rest around his waist, the body pressed against him, all of it brought blessed heat that Lovino had no problem stealing.

“Why are you so warm?” Lovino whined, burying his face in the crook of Gilbert’s neck. The following chuckle rumbled through the albino’s chest and into Lovino’s.

“I’m used to the cold,” Gilbert said, rubbing at Lovino’s sides and back in an attempt to transfer his heat.

Lovino sneezed quietly, curling up against himself in an attempt to stay warm. Gilbert raised a hand to his hair, gently petting the chestnut locks. Then it happened.

Gilbert’s hand brushed against Lovino’s curl.

The reaction was immediate, Lovino’s body stiffening as a small whimper escaped his lips. The Prussian noticed quickly, eyes narrowing. Lovino pulled back, gaze cast down and bright red. Cautiously, Gilbert reached out and flicked Lovino’s curl, causing him to bury his face in his hands with embarrassment and moan quietly. He could practically _feel_ Gilbert’s smirk boring into his covered face.

“That explains a lot,” Gilbert said, puling Lovino back against his chest

Lovino struggled, but in the end he was small and Gilbert wasn’t even if he looked pretty weak, and Lovino hadn’t really been trying all that hard anyway. Even if his cheeks were still burning and he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die so that he could forget this had ever happened.

Gilbert seemed intent on not letting that happen anytime soon.

“Feli always gets so protective about it, I always figured there had to be something interesting about these things,” Gilbert said, slowly tracing along the sensitive ahoge.

Lovino gasped, suddenly feeling _much_ warmer than he had a few moments ago.

“Fuck you, bastard!” he cried out, looking up to glare at the Prussian.

“If that’s what you really want,” Gilbert said, smirking.

Lovino wanted to reply, he really did, but any kind of coherent thoughts he may have had disappeared as Gilbert closed his mouth around the Italian’s curl. Lovino froze, words sticking in his throat, small mews and whimpers falling from his mouth in their place. When Gilbert finally leaned back, dragging his tongue along the length of the sensitive strand a final time, Lovino was red faced and squirming in his lap, stuck between pushing him away and pulling him closer. He decided on the latter, grabbing Gilbert by the front of his shirt and smashing their lips together needily.

It wasn’t like the other times they’d kissed. It wasn’t sweet or slow or possessive. The kiss was desperate and fast, like they were somehow going to run out of time. It was clacking teeth and tongues twisting and breathlessness.

Lovino was trying to ignore the fact that he was getting way too turned on by this. It was made difficult by the fact that he was sitting in Gilbert’s lap, and could feel the physical effect he was having on the Prussian.

And that should _not_ have made his own ‘problem’ even worse.

When Gilbert pulled away, it felt like they’d been there for an eternity, and yet not nearly long enough. Lovino would later deny whining at the loss of the Prussian’s lips on his, Gilbert now looking down at him with an unusually serious expression.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, remarkably calm for someone who’d been dominating Lovino’s mouth seconds earlier.

Lovino moved so he was straddling Gilbert’s lap, pushing the Prussian back against the couch. His hands fisted in the albino’s shirt as he leaned in until their noses were pressed together, eyes burning with an intensity that had Gilbert wondering what had happened to the needy, red-faced, nation he’d witnessed moments before.

“Shut up and fuck me already.”

As the meaning of the words sunk in, Gilbert pulled Lovino flush against him. He recaptured the Italian’s mouth, sliding a hand up the back of his shirt. Lovino made a noise that _absolutely was not_ a squeak as Gilbert all but ripped it off, throwing the shirt somewhere across the room to be worried about later. Pale hands roamed appreciatively across a tanned back, dull nails sending sparks through Lovino where they scraped across his skin.

“We’re probably wearing too many clothes,” Gilbert said jokingly, earning him a half-hearted bat on the arm.

The position they were in wasn’t the best for removing their clothes, and their arousal didn’t make the situation any easier. They somehow managed, and it wasn’t until they had that Lovino started getting self-conscious. Gilbert’s eyes roamed hungrily across his naked form, a predatory glint in his gaze that was unlike anything Lovino could ever remember being the subject off. It did nothing to ease his nerves.

Then he was being tugged against a pale chest, falling for a terrifying second only to be caught a moment later. Lovino shifted quickly, straddling the Prussian once more before meeting Gilbert’s gaze. Three fingers were placed in front of his mouth, accompanied by a look in the Prussian’s eyes that said he was not to be messed with.

“Suck,” Gilbert commanded, his voice hard.

It had been so long since had been given orders, let alone taken them. He complied, sliding his lips over the digits. An experienced tongue swirled around calloused fingers that twitched impatiently in Lovino’s mouth. He kept his gaze locked with Gilbert’s the entire time. The Prussian’s red eyes were clouded with lust, but there was something else there too. Lovino didn’t have time to place the emotion before Gilbert was withdrawing his fingers, tracing them around to Lovino’s back and _down_.

Gilbert had expected him to bite his lip or whimper as he pressed the first finger in. Instead Lovino groaned, a low sound that went straight to Gilbert’s cock, and pushed back against the intrusion. With a quick kiss to his lover’s lips, he slid a second finger in, noticing the way Lovino’s entire body tensed before slowly relaxing. He curled his toes at the third finger, biting back moans as Gilbert stretched him.

“That’s enough, bastard,” Lovino said forcefully, growing impatient.

Gilbert withdrew his fingers painfully slowly, settling for holding Lovino’s waist instead. The Italian nation positioned himself over Gilbert’s length, hands braced on the ex-nation’s shoulders. They locked eyes, until Lovino’s were screwed shut as he lowered himself down, taking Gilbert in haltingly, little by little.

It felt like a sweet, torturous eternity until Lovino was fully seated in Gilbert’s lap, breathing slowly as he accustomed to the forgotten feeling of being filled. For once Gilbert fought to restrain himself, digging his fingertips so hard into Lovino’s sides that he was sure they’d leave bruises. Lovino was the one person he refused to let himself hurt, no matter how great the urge to simply pound into him was.

Lovino rocked his hips experimentally, a loud moan escaping him as he finally moved. Gilbert took it as a sign that the Italian was ready, thrusting up into him the second the sound left Lovino’s mouth. One of the hands on Gilbert’s shoulder slid to the back of his neck, pulling him forward to seal their lips together in another heated kiss. Their tongues slid across one another in a fight for dominance, only fuelling the fire that was burning between them, within them.

As Gilbert thrust into Lovino the Italian nation gasped, teeth closing around Gilbert’s lip. He knew he’d found the spot within Lovino that would make him see stars, and angled his thrusts to hit it every single time.

Lovino wasn’t even aware of the sounds he was making anymore, only knowing that he was too far gone to care about stopping them. The pleasure building in his stomach was almost unbearable, verging on too much. He knew he was close, and Gilbert was too judging from the pace of his thrusts. Lovino wanted to let go, he was so infuriatingly close but he just wasn’t there yet.

Gilbert broke the kiss, leaning up to close his mouth around the one ridiculous curl that had started all of this. The feeling of a warm, wet tongue swiping across it was enough to push Lovino over the edge, biting his lip as his body tensed and pleasure finally crashed down on him.

Gilbert wanted to memorise everything about that moment. The arch of Lovino’s back as he came, the jumbled string of curses he let out as his body finally relaxed, slumping against the albino’s chest, even the smell of sweat and sex that surrounded them. Gilbert didn’t last much longer, releasing with a grunt and one final thrust as he hauled Lovino up for a bruising kiss.

Lovino drifted for a while, mind still whited-out from the pleasure. Eventually he came back to his body, slowly becoming aware of the feeling of sweat drying on his skin and Gilbert pulling out of him. He felt strangely empty, but then Gilbert’s arms were looped around his waist and the closeness of the embrace made him forget it. He rested his head in the hollow of Gilbert’s neck, taking in the scent of his new lover.

They should probably go and clean off, but they were both too tired to even think about moving. Their bodies felt boneless and heavy, unresponsive. They would eventually find their way to bed, or at least onto the couch, but not right now. Now was a time for closeness and quietness, undisturbed by the need for actions or words.

Lovino would definitely be sore in the morning, and probably more than a little grouchy because of it, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that they both felt warm and safe and loved. That was reason enough for Lovino to lay his head down on Gilbert’s chest and listen to his heartbeat, his own pulse slowing as he drifted asleep.


	25. Winter

Lovino wondered if things would be different now.

There was plenty of reason for things to change, but just as many reasons for things to stay the same.

He didn’t remember moving to the couch last night, but that’s where he woke up, held tightly against Gilbert’s chest as the ex-nation slept. Lovino decided he looked younger in his sleep, more peaceful. The Italian sat up slowly, wincing at a dull pain in his lower back, and studied the sleeping man’s features.

Gilbert’s hair reminded Lovino of snow, pure white falling softly against high cheekbones and fluttering eyelids. Lovino wondered what he was dreaming about.

The fire had died down at some point during the night, leaving the room cool and dark in the early morning. Gilbert’s skin was cold, and Lovino wondered if it was a trick of the light making it so pale. Slowly, so as not to wake him, Lovino traced a hand down his chest. He remembered doing this before, when they weren’t together, and feeling guilty for wanting to. Now the feeling of cool skin underneath his fingers was reassuring rather than forbidden, reminding him that Gilbert was still here.

A hand came up to catch Lovino’s wrist, red eyes blinking open.

“ _Guten Morgen,_ ” Gilbert said, rolling his shoulders. His eyes squeezed shut as he yawned.

“Morning,” Lovino said, resting his head back down on Gilbert’s chest, grunting slightly as pain flared at the base of his spine.

“Sore?” Gilbert smirked, laughing through his nose.

“Shut up,” Lovino growled, cheeks turning red.

Gilbert kissed the top of Lovino’s head, rubbing at the tension between his shoulder blades. Lovino relaxed against him, the solidness of his chest and rhythmic motion of his hand comforting.

“So cute!” Gilbert said, voice shooting up a couple octaves as he tightened his arms around Lovino. The Italian let out a surprised yell that ended up muffled by the Prussian’s chest, pushing himself back slightly.

“Idiot,” he said, scowling.

“You know you can’t resist me,” Gilbert said, laughing.

“I wouldn’t say that…” Lovino said, but he still wrapped his arms around Gilbert.

It was familiar, and the warmth was finally seeping back into the room. Winter was gone, spring sweeping in, bringing new beginnings. And Lovino decided that nothing had changed, even though everything had.


	26. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d just like to point out that I live in Australia, where we don’t celebrate Halloween, hence the short chapter. I don’t really know that much about the holiday.

“I’m not going.”

“But _fratello!_ ”

The argument had been going around in circles for over an hour. Well, Lovino had been attempting to get out this for a lot longer than that, but it hadn’t been until a few hours before the plane was due to leave that Feliciano decided he wasn’t going to let Lovino off the hook that easily.

“I said no, Feli.” Lovino crossed his arms and scowled. “It’s stupid anyway.”

“It’s a party!”

Lovino sighed, trying to escape his brother’s pleading gaze. Feliciano wasn’t as helpless as everyone thought, he knew how to get exactly what he wanted when he was determined.

 “It’s another one of Alfred’s lame ass Halloween parties.”

“Everyone’s going to be there, Lovi. Please?”

Lovino honestly wished that for once, just once, he could say no to his brother when he was begging. Feliciano was way too persuasive for his own good. With a sigh, Lovino finally conceded.

“Fine,” he huffed, “but I am _not_ dressing up.”

This whole thing was giving him déjà vu. The details were perfect, nearly identical.  Standing on the same balcony, holding an empty bottle, and wondering where his _fratello_ had gone. Now all he needed was a drunk Prussian to come and pass out on him.

He got half of what he asked for.

“Figured you’d be up here.”

Five words could tell you a lot. Lovino already knew who was talking, since nobody but Gilbert had such a distinctive voice. He could also tell that the Prussian wasn’t drunk, for once. Turning, he found Gilbert watching him from the doorway, lacking an appropriate costume for the event.

“Thought you’d be dressed up, bastard,” Lovino said, stepping back into the house. Nobody needed to see them talking.

“I _was_ going to do a group costume with Francis and Tonio, but they bailed on me.” He shrugged. “You’re not in costume either.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” His lips twitched up into a lopsided smile.

Gilbert took a step towards him, the Italian finding himself backed up against the wall. He should have felt trapped, with Gilbert looming over him, ruby eyes darkening dangerously, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“Remember last time we were here?” he asked, flashing his teeth in a wide grin. “Because I do.”

Gilbert held himself like a predator, looked at Lovino like a hunter eyeing up its prey. It should have been terrifying, alone in a room with someone staring at him like he was a piece of meat. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, but Lovino couldn’t force himself to care.

“All I remember is you passing out,” Lovino said, smirking. Gilbert loomed closer, leaning down until there was barely any space at all between them.

“I remember something like this.”

Then there wasn’t any space between them, and Gilbert’s lips were on Lovino’s. The shorter man raised himself into the kiss, refusing to admit that he had to stand on the balls of his feet just to reach properly. Gilbert was definitely smirking against Lovino’s lips, wrapping his arms around the Italian’s waist.

Lovino would have retaliated, if not for the sound of footsteps approaching in the hallway. They froze, like a pair of deer caught in the headlights, wide eyes staring guiltily at the door.

“Yo, anybody up here?” Alfred’s voice shot through the room, spurring them into action.

By the time the doors flung open, Gilbert was talking animatedly about his more recent antics with Francis and Antonio, and Lovino was acting completely disinterested. Alfred managed to drag them down to the party, but not before Gilbert shot Lovino a sly smirk and a wink.

Lovino knew there would be more trouble before the party was over.


	27. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Action-Character must talk to a friend about their relationship.

There had always been an inevitability to it. Living among immortal, power-hungry beings, used to double-crossing each other without a second thought, suspicion became second nature.

And secrets never stayed secret for long.

One of the things they didn’t tell you when you became a nation was that secrecy was both inevitable and impossible. You do your best to keep your personal affairs personal, all the while digging into everyone else’s lives. But Gilbert hadn’t been a nation for decades. He had no reason to be suspicious of anyone and everyone anymore, besides morbid curiosity and the occasional need for blackmail material. So he’d forgotten how hard it was to keep a secret among nations.

Since he’d been with Lovino, Gilbert hadn’t kept track of how often he’d been travelling to Italy. He’d never told anyone that was his destination of course, but just the fact that he was spending a lot of time outside of Germany was enough to make certain people suspicious.

Inevitably, Ludwig was one of those. In a weird way Gilbert was proud. He’d managed to do something right when he raised Ludwig. He should have realised that all the sudden travelling would make his brother suspicious.

“What are you doing?” Ludwig asked.

He stood in the doorway to Gilbert’s room, watching the Prussian pack his suitcase. It had seen a lot of use in the past months.

“What does it look like, West?” Gilbert said sarcastically. “I’m packing.”

“Where are you going?” Ludwig asked, voice shifting into his to a more serious tone. He wasn’t trying to pretend this was just idle conversation anymore. Gilbert was glad, he was terrible at idle conversation.

“West?” Gilbert looked up, eyes narrowed.

“Answer the question,” Ludwig said.

“I’m just travelling. Didn’t realise it was a crime,” Gilbert replied, shrugging. He needed to sound casual, to mask the fact that he was carefully calculating every move he made.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time travelling recently,” Ludwig said, expression softening. “I’m worried about you.”

“Last time I checked, you were the younger brother,” Gilbert said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m bored of staying here with nothing to do all the time, it’s gotten old pretty quick.”

Ludwig stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Gilbert knew, as his brother’s gaze scrutinised him, that he’d given himself away. He didn’t know how exactly, he just knew that it was game over. There was no getting out of this one.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Ludwig said, folding his arms across his chest.

“ _Bruder_ I told you, I’m going travelling,” Gilbert said. He knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“Gilbert, stop lying. You spend more time away these days than you do in the house. Nobody can even tell me where you are half the time.”

“I didn’t realise I had to answer to you now,” Gilbert snapped, feeling himself getting annoyed.

Why couldn’t Ludwig just stay out of his business? Gilbert wasn’t a nation anymore, Ludwig had nothing to gain from prying into his personal life.

“You live in my house, you’re under my charge, I need to know where you are.”

“West, drop it,” Gilbert warned.

Being reminded of the fact that all he was now was a freeloader felt like being punched in the stomach. That had been a cheap shot, even if Ludwig hadn’t intended it. Gilbert couldn’t be entirely sure he hadn’t. Silence descended on the room as both men tried to stare each other down, Ludwig demanding answers and Gilbert refusing to give them.

Ludwig cracked first, Gilbert smirking as he looked away. His victory was short lived.

“Tell me where you’re going,” Ludwig said quietly, staring at the wall.

“Or what?” Gilbert asked.

“I won’t let you go.”

“You can’t stop me,” Gilbert scoffed.

“You’re not a nation anymore, _bruder_. I can stop you from leaving the country.”

Gilbert felt like he’d been slapped in the face. He never thought Ludwig would go that far just to pry into the life of an ex-nation. He was probably telling himself that he was just protecting Gilbert, but the Prussian knew better. Ludwig was willing to do a lot to satisfy his curiosity.

“Why?” Gilbert demanded.

“Because I don’t want you doing anything stupid,” Ludwig said, voice even. There was the lie, the one Gilbert had known was coming.

He was backed into a corner. If he didn’t tell Ludwig, he’d practically become a prisoner. Any time he wanted to leave the house he’d be met with questions and suspicion. On the other hand, Gilbert could just tell him. Although Ludwig was apparently determined to know about every aspect of Gilbert’s life, he wasn’t likely to go spreading those details around to other nations. But the more people that knew, the more chance there was of someone slipping up, of their secret getting out.

Still, Gilbert had a plane to catch and he was running out of time. There was only one way he was getting out of this, and it didn’t involve telling half the truth. Like it or not, Gilbert had raised Ludwig to ask too many questions for that.

“I’ve been staying with Lovino,” Gilbert said, sighing. He hated being so powerless that he could be backed into this by his own brother.

“Lovino?” Ludwig asked, cringing slightly. No doubt he was remembering the Italian’s less than fond attitude towards him.

“ _Ja_. We’ve been…seeing each other.”

Ludwig looked as though Gilbert had just told him he was dying. His expression bounced between shock, confusion and something that looked suspiciously like curiosity. Out of everything that Gilbert could have possibly said at that moment, those clearly had not been words Ludwig had been prepared to hear.

“For how long?” he eventually asked, after he’d regained his composure.

Gilbert opened his mouth to reply, only to realise he didn’t actually know. Thinking about it, the answer he came to surprised him.

“About a year.”

Gilbert was too preoccupied to enjoy the look of shock on Ludwig’s face. Had it really been that long? It felt like they’d only been together a matter of weeks, though the Prussian did often find himself wondering what his life had been life before Lovino had come storming into it.

“Does Antonio know?” Ludwig asked.

“No,” Gilbert said quickly. “That’s Lovino’s call to make, not yours or mine.”

Ludwig seemed surprised at Gilbert’s defence of the Italian’s decision. Usually Gilbert was all for stirring up trouble, it made for more interesting world meetings, but this was different. This was his and Lovino’s personal life, not a political or financial matter that had a place being discussed by the rest of the world. When Antonio found out, it would be on Lovino’s terms, not anyone else’s. It certainly would not be done for anyone’s personal gain.

“Can I leave now?” Gilbert asked, finally returning to his usual, annoying self.

 _“Ja_ , go ahead,” Ludwig said, stepping out into the hallway. Gilbert knew he was glad to see the end of that particular conversation.

“Wait, West,” Gilbert said, catching his brother’s attention. Ludwig looked back into the room, brow furrowed. “Don’t tell Feli.”

Ludwig nodded, both in assent and understanding, before disappearing down the hallway. Gilbert was left to finish packing and figuring out how he would get to the airport, but he wasn’t worried about that. What he was worried about was telling Lovino about his conversation with Ludwig.

This was not going to end well.


	28. Mug

The scent of coffee hung in the air. Gilbert couldn’t be sure if that was what had woken him or not, but he’d noticed it now and couldn’t simply ignore the enticing scent. His phone told him it was probably late enough to be dragging himself out of bed, even if he was warm and comfortable where he was. There was coffee brewing, and that meant there was an Italian in the kitchen making the coffee. That was enough to convince Gilbert that leaving the bed might be worth it.

Sure enough, Lovino was smirking at the counter as Gilbert stumbled in half-asleep, two mugs of coffee in his hands. Gilbert slid into one of the chairs at the table, trying in vain to tame his wild bedhead.

“Figured that’d wake you,” Lovino said, handing Gilbert one of the mugs.

Gilbert took it, sipping the strong, hot coffee. It was weirdly domestic, and reminded Gilbert of another time Lovino made coffee for him like this. Except then Gilbert had been hungover and confused, and then hadn’t been together. Then Gilbert hadn’t been able to pull Lovino into his lap and kiss him, which he took great pleasure in doing now. Lovino let out a surprised squeak, nearly dropping his mug. Gilbert silenced the sound by pressing his lips against Lovino’s firmly, tasting coffee as Lovino opened his mouth to the kiss.

Even if he had kissed him then, Lovino wouldn’t have smiled when he pulled away, and Gilbert wouldn’t have been forced to smile back because it was one of the rarest sights he’d ever seen and there really was no other way to react. Lovino had a bright smile, even if he didn’t show it often.

“Good morning,” Lovino said, breathless and almost laughing.

“Morning,” Gilbert said, stealing another kiss. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Yeah, well, you’re here.” Lovino ducked his head, cheeks burning.

Gilbert couldn’t help but kiss him again at that, curling his fingers around the back of the Italian’s neck and pulling him closer. Lovino huffed but obliged him willingly, arms winding around the Prussian’s shoulders.

Gilbert never would’ve thought that Lovino was big on cuddling. He’d always thought the Italian would take any opportunity to keep his distance from others, rather than be looking for reasons to get close to them. It made Gilbert wonder about his past, and how little affection he must have gotten then if he was so desperate for it now. It had definitely been a shock for him to learn that Lovino liked to be as close to him as possible, but he wasn’t complaining. Any excuse to have Lovino near him was good enough for Gilbert.

Maybe Lovino had domesticated him.

He certainly must’ve done something to make Gilbert appreciate nothing more than the weight of his lover in his arms and the warmth of a body against his chest, but Gilbert could say that he honestly didn’t care. Lovino was the one person it was worth it for, and he was willing to be a little more domestic for him. Most of the time.


	29. Concert

_Damn_ this club was good.

Neither of them entirely remembered how they’d gotten there exactly. Lovino kind of remembered going to Rome for something or other, deciding to stay for a few drinks, and then somehow hearing about a club that had a few local bands playing that night. One thing apparently led to another-his memory was really fuzzy at this point-and here they were.

Lovino was surprised he’d never been to this place before. At least he didn’t think he had. It was hard to be sure about anything right now. All he could really be sure about was that there was great music, he’d had enough drinks to be feeling a good buzz, and Gilbert had disappeared into the crowd.

Damn that Prussian.

Slamming the rest of his drink, Lovino scanned the floor of the club. Gilbert shouldn’t have been that hard to find, he was pretty distinct, but between the flashing lights, the pounding music and the drinks, Lovino couldn’t spot him anywhere. He’d have to actually leave the bar if he wanted to have any chance of finding him.

Moving through the mass of shifting bodies, all dancing in time to the beat, proved to be difficult. The place was packed. Every few seconds Lovino either got elbowed in the ribs or felt someone stepping on his foot. He felt like swearing at a few people that refused to get out of the way, but it wouldn’t do much good, the music was too loud for anyone to hear him.

Lovino definitely did _not_ squeak when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist. He struggled against the grip, intent on breaking a few bones if whoever was behind him didn’t let go.

“Easy, Lovi!” a voice shouted in his ear, struggling against the music. “It’s just me.”

Well, he’d found Gilbert at least. Turning to face him, which was difficult in itself, Lovino struggled to raise himself close enough to Gilbert’s ear to be heard.

“Bastard, I lost you!” he yelled.

“Aw, Lovi missed me.” Gilbert laughed, pressing himself against Lovino as he swayed in time to the music.

“ _Idiota_ ,” Lovino said, having to stand on his toes to be level with the Prussian.

Gilbert dissolved into drunken giggles, and soon enough Lovino was rolling his eyes and joining him. They kissed right there on the dancefloor, drunk and laughing and pressed close to one another by the mass of bodies surrounding them. It was fast and sloppy but neither of them were in any state to really notice or care.

“Hey, Lovi?” Gilbert said, holding Lovino close even as he pulled back slightly.

“Yeah?” Lovino answered, wondering when his hands had found their way to the albino’s waist.

“How the hell,” he started, cutting himself off with a laugh, “are we going to get home?”

Something warm unfurled in his chest at hearing Gilbert refer to it as his home, although Lovino pointedly tried to blame it on the alcohol. Gilbert had a point, neither of them were in any state to drive and it was too late to start back even if they were sober. The crowd had been slowly beginning to thin for a while, although there were still plenty of people in the club.

“There’s a hotel around here somewhere,” Lovino said loudly.

Gilbert smirked at him suggestively, raising an eyebrow. Lovino batted his arm as hard as he could manage while drunk, which wasn’t really that hard, and rolled his eyes.

“Unless _you_ want to drive us home,” Lovino said, knowing that even Gilbert would recognise that as a bad idea. He was drunk, but he wasn’t _that_ drunk. Sure enough Gilbert nodded, agreeing to find a hotel later.

They ended up staying a while longer, until there was actually enough room on the dancefloor to dance. Despite having the space, Lovino still remained held against Gilbert’s chest, not having the energy anymore to complain about it. He wouldn’t have meant a word of it anyway.

“Come on, let’s go find that hotel,” Gilbert said, feeling Lovino beginning to droop against him.

Lovino nodded, eyelids growing heavy as he allowed himself to be guided out of the club. Gilbert supported him with an arm around his waist as the Italian nation guided them through the streets of Rome to a nearby hotel. Even as tired as he was, Lovino was still coherent enough to navigate his own city. That much he could do, even if most other things were beyond him right now.

They found an open hotel pretty close, and after a few minutes Lovino managed to check them in. Gilbert watched with growing amusement as Lovino tried to act a lot more sober than he was feeling and not get thrown out by having an argument with the receptionist.

As they stood in the elevator, Lovino resting heavily against Gilbert’s side, the Prussian got curious.

“What were you getting so pissed about?” To Gilbert’s surprise, Lovino blushed at the question.

“The _idiota_ was trying to give up separate beds,” Lovino said, burying his face against Gilbert’s chest out of embarrassment.

Gilbert chuckled, drawing Lovino up into his arms as the elevator doors opened. Lovino spluttered and clung to him, struggling to think of an appropriate insult as Gilbert carried him towards the room.

“What the hell are you doing?” he finally said, too tired not to let his head drop on Gilbert’s shoulder.

“Carrying you, what do you think?” Gilbert said, struggling awkwardly to open the door with Lovino still in his arms.

“Bastard,” Lovino muttered, but they both knew he didn’t mean it.

Kicking the door closed behind him, Gilbert set Lovino down on the bed, looming over him. Lovino stared up at him, eyes clouded with exhaustion. Unable to resist, Gilbert leaned down and kissed him. Lovino was slow to respond, but when he did the kiss quickly became deep and heated, Gilbert gladly twisting his tongue with the Italian’s.

When Lovino yawned into the kiss, pulling back to cover his mouth, Gilbert decided they’d gone far enough for the night. Laying down beside his lover, Lovino curled up against him. Gilbert obligingly wrapped an arm around the Italian, manoeuvring them both with some difficulty under the covers.

“Gute Nacht, Lovi,” Gilbert said, eyes sliding shut.

When he received no reply, he cracked an eye open to look down at the smaller man beside him. Lovino had already fallen asleep, chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths. Smiling, Gilbert kissed his forehead and held him tighter, watching the sleeping man beside him until he couldn’t hold his eyes open anymore.


	30. Quote #3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Quote-Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that

****

Neither of them had ever thought about what their fights would be like. Gilbert had never stuck around in a relationship long enough to work through anything serious, and Lovino…well, he’d never been able to stay mad at Antonio for long.

“Hey, when are you going back to Berlin?”

It was a simple question. There was nothing dangerous about it, nothing to tell them that

“Why?” Gilbert said.

He’d only just walked through the door, halfway between the hallway and the kitchen.

“Won’t the potato bastard be getting suspicious?” Lovino asked, turning away from the stove to face the Prussian.

Gilbert froze in place. It was only a second’s hesitation, but Lovino noticed it, eyes narrowing.

“Where does he think you are?” he demanded, arms folding across his chest.

“He-I told him, uh…” Gilbert didn’t have a lie for this. He’d told Ludwig the truth, except Lovino didn’t know that, and he hadn’t actually figured out how he was supposed to tell him.

“Gil, what did you do?” Lovino asked. Something in his voice suddenly had Gilbert remembering that this was the nation responsible for the mafia, and he was dangerously close to seeing that side of Lovino.

“He already got suspicious,” Gilbert admitted. “I had to tell him.”

“What exactly did you tell him?” Lovino said, gaze hard. Gilbert gulped.

“Everything,” Gilbert mumbled.

“What?” Lovino shouted, taking a step towards him. Gilbert instinctively raised himself to his full height, not willing to let himself be overpowered.

“I had no choice!” Gilbert said. “He was threatening to keep me in the country.”

“So you lie! We decided that no one else knows,” Lovino said, turning to brace his hands on the counter, fingers scratching into the surface.

“Lovi, I tried,” Gilbert said, groaning in exasperation.

Suddenly Lovino was facing him again, stalking across the kitchen towards the doorway where Gilbert still stood, half in and half out.

“You try harder. They can’t find out, you have no idea what he’ll do!”

Then he was pushing past Gilbert, storming towards the bedroom. After a second of shocked motionless, Gilbert was following him, trying to convince the Italian to stay, to talk to him. The bedroom door slammed in his face as he tried to enter, reaching out for Lovino.

For a few second he just stared at the door, shocked into silence. Sighing, Gilbert let his head fall against the wood, a dull bang echoing in the hallway. The thought occurred to him to run, to leave and get out now before this got worse. He had no idea what he was supposed to do in a fight. The fact that it was Lovino only made it harder.

Instantly he felt bad about it, because _yes_ , it was Lovino, which wasn’t a reason to leave, it was a reason to stay.

Then Lovino’s words came back to him, and Gilbert lost whatever anger he’d held. They echoed in his mind, what _he’ll_ do, not what _they’ll_ do. Suddenly he realised, Lovino wasn’t mad at him, he was terrified. He was terrified of everyone finding out, because there was one nation that just couldn’t find out.

“Lovi?” he said quietly, testing the doorknob.

The door swung open easily, revealing Lovino sitting on the bed, knees drawn up to his chest as he stared towards the window.

“Get out,” Lovino said. Gilbert had expected him to yell, to call him ‘bastard’ or to at least get mad. He honestly would have been less concerned if Lovino had.

“Lovino, talk to me,” he said, sitting beside him on the bed. Lovino tensed up and moved away.

“You could have told me,” Lovino said quietly.

Without even thinking about it, Gilbert pulled the Italian into his lap, holding him tightly even as Lovino struggled against him. He waited until Lovino went limp in his arms, resigned to the fact that he was the weaker of the two.

“If I hadn’t told West, I would still be in Berlin right now. I wanted to see you,” he said, trying to stay calm. Getting mad at Lovino would probably frighten him into running.

Lovino nodded, and squeezed his eyes shut against tears that threatened to fall. He felt weak for letting this get to him, for blowing up just because he was afraid. They’d been together for over a year now. Maybe it wasn’t a long time for nations, but it was still enough that they should trust each other. Gilbert had lied, or at least kept secrets, but it was in their nature. It would take a lot longer to get past that. What Lovino knew was that he couldn’t hate Gilbert, even if maybe he should right now. They were stronger than that. They had to be.


	31. Quote #4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Quote-There is never a time or a place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.  
> Jett=Australia

It wasn’t really a convenient moment to realise it, nor was it a conventional one. Really, there was no good time to have Earth-shattering revelations, but that didn’t stop it from being a really, _really_ bad time.

Of course it had to happen in a World Meeting. It had to happen when every single nation was sitting at a table with him, probably discussing important political events-or, if they were honest _attempting_ to discuss important political event-while he was having a hard time focusing on anything other than Gilbert.

The Prussian didn’t even really need to be there. Ludwig took care of their country well enough for both of him, leaving Lovino wondering why he was there, being as distracting as ever. The only reason Lovino could think of made him want to blush. Could Gilbert be there because of him?

Whatever the reason, it wasn’t going to stop Lovino from being unable to stop himself looking at Gilbert. Even when he was silent-which wasn’t often, but it happened-he had a massive presence. It was as if the entire room centred on him whenever he was there. Lovino knew it was just him, because otherwise everyone would be staring and there was no way Gilbert’s ego needed that.

Lovino tried, he really did, to keep his eyes on the presentation, to pay attention. Except Gilbert was quite obviously passing notes with Francis and...Antonio, much to his brother’s annoyance. But there was no stopping the three of them, and Gilbert kept laughing and at one point even snorting which was hard to ignore. So he’d look away, the tell-tale sound would draw his eyes back to the Prussian, he’d drag his gaze back to the front of the room, and the cycle would repeat.

Ludwig caught him staring, and gave him a look that was half a question, half a glare. Lovino narrowed his eyes and glared right back until the German nation grew uncomfortable and looked away. He celebrated the small victory, trying to focus his attention back on whoever was presenting. He’d been distracted so long he couldn’t even remember who it was.

Kiku, that’s who was talking. But Lovino had missed half his speech and honestly had no idea what he was talking about, so it wasn’t _really_ his fault when he found his gaze drifting back over to Gilbert, who currently appeared to be involved in an intense face-pulling match across the table with Alfred.

If he’d had the opportunity, he would have called Gilbert and idiot, rolled his eyes and continued with his day. Since he didn’t have the opportunity, Lovino was forced to keep staring, and a thought entered his mind.

_‘I love him.’_

Lovino’s next thought was along the lines of every curse he could think of in every language he knew, because he did _not_ just think that. He couldn’t have, because that was a dangerous thought and he wasn’t ready to even think about going there, not yet.

Since he couldn’t run, or swear, or break anything, Lovino was forced to sit there, barely able to keep himself from bolting out of the Meeting Room out of sheer panic. Even know, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over to Gilbert, to the man he’s come to know so well so quickly.

And as he did, he wondered if this was such a bad thing.

* * *

 

Gilbert’s realisation wasn’t inconvenient, exactly, but it was incredibly random. If there’d ever been a moment he’d been further from Lovino, even before they were together, Gilbert couldn’t think of it.

He realised in the middle of the night, sitting at a bus stop in the pouring rain in Sydney of all places. Australia was supposed to be a desert, yet here he was stuck in the middle of a downpour. It was all Jett’s fault for ditching him when the club closed, leaving Gilbert alone in King’s Cross to try and get back to wherever the hell Jett lived. Which just happened to be in the middle of nowhere.

By the time he’d figured out there probably wasn’t going to be a bus anytime soon, Gilbert was seriously considering just crashing there for the night. It wasn’t like he’d never had worse, and his only other option was to walk. Nations could travel long distances sure, far further than any human, but Australia was a really big place and Gilbert wasn’t entirely sure he definitely knew the way back to wherever it was Jett actually lived anyway. Also he was drunk, which was making it very difficult for him to focus on anything at all.

The feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket roused him from his half-conscious state enough to pull it out, staring at the screen in an attempt to arrange the letters of the text into some kind of legible sentence.

_‘Bastard your bird won’t shut up what the hell do I do???’_

After at least a minute of trying to figure out what text actually meant, it suddenly clicked to Gilbert that he’d left Gilbird with Lovino.

The text he sent in reply probably wasn’t even nearly legible, but he had to assume Lovino understood it, because a few minutes later his phone buzzed again.

_‘It’s gone quiet now. Linosa went near him and now they look like they’re plotting to kill me help.’_

There was a photo attached, which Gilbert recognised through hazy-eyes as Linosa and Gilbird. Opening it, he was surprised to see that it really did look like the two pets were out to get someone. Linosa was snarling at the camera and Gilbird looked as though he was chirping into her ear, eyes narrowed into an unusually aggressive expression.

Gilbert was halfway through another text when the realisation hit him.

 _‘I love him_.’

It came out of nowhere, but once he’d thought it Gilbert couldn’t get it out of his head. It made sense, even with the alcohol clouding his brain. He’d left Gilbird with Lovino. The Prussian didn’t trust _anyone_ with his pet, not since that one time with West and the dogs that Gilbert shuddered just thinking about.

He wasn’t drunk enough to think it was a good idea to inform the Italian of his sudden realisation just yet. Lovino definitely would not appreciate that kind of text in the middle of the night, illegible and only half thought out, undoubtedly to be regretted later.

For now he would worry about getting out of this damn city and tracking down Jett before he passed out, if that was even possible. Later, when he had more time and a clear head, Gilbert could think about what he and Lovino had. Then he would decide what to do, and how he’d managed to fall so hard without noticing.


	32. Fog

It was as though they were living inside a fog.

Hidden in view from the rest of the world, together in their seclusion. That was what Lovino felt with him. It wasn’t like being numb, as though the fog was shielding them from emotions and pain and life. That was what Lovino felt when they were apart. When they were together, the very air became electrified, buzzing with energy. It intensified the closer they got, until they were touching and Lovino didn’t know if he could stand whatever unseen power was hovering around them, passing between them.

The first time he’d said the words, he barely even realised he was doing it. They’d been bantering like usual, Lovino watching whatever happened to be on TV and Gilbert typing on his laptop. It’d just came out, like he _needed_ to say it.

“Ti amo, bastard.”

Gilbert had stopped whatever he was doing on his laptop, looking up to stare silently at Lovino. The Italian was internally freaking out, although his permanent scowl was still fixed in place. Why the hell had he said that? They weren’t even talking about anything important, he hadn’t even been thinking about it, it’d just happened. Lovino could’ve slapped himself. He didn’t want things to change, and now he’d gone and done this.

“Stop looking at me like that!” Lovino snapped, causing Gilbert to force his head back to his laptop, smirking. Lovino turned back to the TV, cheeks burning as he tried to forget what’d just happened.

“You really mean that?” he asked a few second later.

“Shut up!” Lovino growled, burying his face in his hands. Gilbert barely heard his muttered, “ _Si.”_

Pushing his laptop aside, Gilbert scooped the smaller man into his lap, leaning in so their noses were practically touching.

“What are you doing?” Lovino demanded, tensing up as he realised he couldn’t get away.

Gilbert kissed him, hard. Lovino’s eyes flew open at the unexpected action, hands scrambling to find purchase on the Prussian’s shoulders. When Gilbert pulled back, resting his forehead against Lovino’s, they were both breathless.

“Idiot…” Lovino huffed, rolling his eyes.

 _“Ich liebe dich,”_ Gilbert muttered, scarlet eyes turned down.

Lovino wondered if he’d heard correctly, because no way did the arrogant Prussia just say _that_ to _him_ of all people. Except he had heard correctly, and Gilbert had said it, and he actually sounded kind of nervous about it.

“You’re still an idiot,” Lovino said, nestling himself against Gilbert’s side. It was the only thing he knew how to do at that moment, but it worked.

Gilbert’s face broke back out into his usual smirk as he wrapped an arm around Lovino and started going on about his ‘awesome Italian’ being even more awesome than he’d thought. Lovino breathed a sigh of relief, content that things hadn’t been ruined by his slip up, and they could stay inside their fog, safe and happy and together.

Sooner or later though, the fog would have to clear. They couldn’t hide from the rest of the world forever.


	33. Yelling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be up yesterday, but then I fell asleep in the middle of writing it so now I'm finishing it at five in the morning so it's probably not the best okay?

He could have at least apologised.

Not that Lovino was ever one for that, but _still_. After what he did, after what he said, he could have at least tried to act like he was sorry. Which he hadn’t been, judging from the raised voice and the hard gaze and the shaking fists.

Gilbert didn’t even know where he was anymore. The stupid Italian streets twisted and folded back onto themselves so many times it had barely taken him five minutes to lose his bearings. Even with anger burning in his mind, he couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Ludwig trying to navigate here, where there was little order nothing made as much sense as it should have. It was a ridiculous thought after a ridiculous fight, which seemed appropriate.

But none of that changed the fact that he was there now, lost and angry but still walking because stopping would be unbearable and Gilbert knew he couldn’t do it.

It was late. He didn’t remember it getting dark, but it meant that he’d been out there a long time. And the anger should have been fading, like it usually did, but it wasn’t and he didn’t understand why.

In all honesty, he’d been trying to find his way back to the house for a while, he just wouldn’t admit it. Everything looked the same but different and he couldn’t remember if he’d been down this road before so all Gilbert could do was keep walking and pretend he wasn’t looking for the road he knew would take him to the big house that overlooked the valley. It was frustrating in a way that it shouldn’t have been. Gilbert didn’t usually get mad just because of something like getting lost. Now though, he wanted to yell and maybe kick something because the streets didn’t make any sense and he was frustrated of being out of control.

He was tired of this. He just wanted to go _home_.

* * *

 

Lovino refused to admit he was crying.

They were not tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, slipping down his cheeks to stain the bedsheets. He wouldn’t believe it.

How could they he have been so stupid? It wasn’t like Gilbert was particularly grounded in the first place. Lovino should’ve known, one wrong move and he would be gone. At least one of them should have seen it coming.

The house was quiet, save for bitten back sobs that were all that remained after the loud anger. That had faded, gone almost as soon as Gilbert stormed out, the echoing of a slammed door the only reminder that he’d ever been there to begin with. Lovino wanted to be silent, to stop the trembling of his body because he wasn’t supposed to be upset that Gilbert had left, he was supposed to be angry.

This had always been going to happen. Because if there was one thing that could come between them, it was Antonio.

One year and six months later, Lovino still couldn’t look at him.

Maybe it was because he remembered. He remembered broken promises, never feeling good enough, being treated like a child.

And to Lovino, that was fine. He never had to see Antonio outside of meetings anyways, and occasionally parties or whatever else other nations dragged everyone along for, so it was okay.

Except it wasn’t, because Gilbert was Antonio’s friend and before Lovino they’d hung out a hell of a lot more. Lovino knew, because he also remembered how often Gilbert had come over to Antonio’s when he was still there.

He couldn’t expect Gilbert to give up that friendship. He couldn’t even expect him to change it for Lovino’s sake, and he hadn’t, not intentionally. But then Gilbert was _here_ not _there_ , and he was never really around the others anymore because they were always sneaking around, hiding, away from the rest of the world.

And Lovino shouldn’t have gotten mad when he’d said he was going to stay with Antonio.

* * *

 

Gilbert had never seen Lovino properly angry. Although, the fact that he had now could probably be his fault. Lovino always yelled, and he never had a problem coming up with an endless stream of creative insults, but he was never actually mad at the people he was insulting. Annoyed yes, frustrated definitely, but not angry.

Actually seeing Lovino mad was terrifying. First had come the quiet anger, the irritation he kept to himself save for a snapping voice and the glares whenever their eyes met. Then there’d been the outright anger, the loud voice and accusations because yes Antonio was Gilbert’s friend, but would he still be if he really knew what Antonio had been like all those years Lovino had lived with him?

The worst part had been that Gilbert was willing to listen, to hear him out and finally know exactly what had happened that’d made Lovino so opposed to the very idea of Antonio. But Lovino didn’t want to talk, had refused all of Gilbert’s questions. That hurt a lot more than the yelling.

Then the quietness had come back. Lovino had told him to go if he was going, because clearly he wouldn’t be stopped. Gilbert had tried to get him to talk again, tried to apologise, because even the yelling was better than the silent seething, the slowly growing anger.

Except he found out it wasn’t when Lovino had snapped.

All Gilbert had been able to do was turn and walk out, slamming the door with a lot more force than was necessary. He never heard the sobs from the kitchen. He never saw when Lovino run out onto the porch, face tear-stricken against his will as he called out for Gilbert to come back.

Now he was lost, and had no idea if he wanted to find his way again. He didn’t know what was waiting for him back at the house, whether it was anger or regret or finally an apology. He wished he’d thought to take his phone, but he hadn’t been in his right mind when he’d left.

He would find his way back, he had to. One way or another, he wasn’t going to let this fight hang between them forever.

* * *

 

The front door was unlocked. Lovino knew this, because after he’d ran outside praying Gilbert was still there, he hadn’t locked it. He couldn’t bear to lock Gilbert out, there was too much subtext, too much he didn’t want to think about.

The knocking surprised him. First he thought he was imagining it, that it was wishful thinking. Then he thought it couldn’t be Gilbert, because why would he have come back after what Lovino had said?

Then there were footsteps inside the house, loud and certain and Lovino knew it was him. Hurriedly wiping the tears from his eyes, he struggled to push himself up to a sitting position. Facing the window, back to the door, he could do this. _They_ could do this. It was night outside, so many stars visible away from the light of the cities.

Linosa had curled up with him at some point, grudgingly offering him comfort. She wasn’t heartless, she was just as stubborn as her master. When the bedroom door opened, she hissed and growled until Lovino ran a hand down her back, calming her.

There was a nervous chuckle from the doorway, hesitant footsteps coming closer. Linosa shifted with discontent, but remained quiet.

“Is she going to kill me?” Gilbert asked, and he sounded afraid not angry. Lovino wanted him to be angry, it was what he deserved.

“Depends,” Lovino said curtly. He wanted to be sorry, to turn around and beg for forgiveness and try to explain himself even though he had no real excuses, but his body refused to listen to him.

“On…?” Gilbert prompted, taking another careful step closer.

“How much you want to kill me right now.” Lovino had meant for his voice to come out even, but it quavered with fear. He did not want Gilbert to hate him.

“I’m mad, Lovi. It doesn’t mean I want to hurt you, or leave.” The last part was quieter, but Lovino heard it.

Gently he shoved Linosa from the bed. The white cat turned up her nose as she landed on her paws, stalking indignantly out of the room. Lovino turned to watch her trot through the doorway, only then looking up to meet Gilbert’s eyes for the first time.

“Are we going to talk now?” he asked, and he wasn’t standing in the doorway like last time they’d fought. He wasn’t preparing to run if things got bad. It was a comforting thought.

“You can do whatever you want with Antonio, he’s _your_ friend. Just don’t expect me to want to hear all about your ‘awesome’ weekend.”

Lovino tried very hard not to flinch when Gilbert sat down on the bed, wrapping his arms around Lovino’s waist. It took a few seconds, but he managed to relax back against Gilbert’s chest, and the familiar comfort reminded him that this was something they could do, it wasn’t going to destroy them.

“I don’t have to go,” Gilbert said, and suddenly Lovino was pushing him away, if only so he could turn around and look him in the eyes.

“Listen, bastard,” he said, and Gilbert was stunned into silence. “I told you to go, just don’t expect me to like it. It’s not your fault that I have a bad history with him, got it?”

Gilbert nodded numbly, still shocked from Lovino’s sudden outburst.

“Good,” Lovino said, satisfied.

Then he settled himself back against Gilbert’s chest, and smiled slightly when lean arms were wrapped around him again.


	34. Mentalist

Sometimes, it feels like they can read each other’s minds.

It’s weird, because Gilbert’s never known someone who can get inside his head like that. To think that it’s Lovino of all people is even stranger. The Prussian has always been wild and unpredictable, and how someone as stubborn, and at times ignorant, as South Italy could be able to so easily know and predict him is beyond Gilbert. Nobody has ever gotten close enough before to be able to call him predictable, nobody but Lovino.

There’s a part of it that scares him, almost enough to want to run from this, from…whatever they have. Gilbert doesn’t even know what they are, because they don’t talk about it, and that makes him wonder sometimes how long it can last like this. It’s a thought he tries to ignore, because neither of them are good at talking about feelings, especially not if their fights are anything to go by.

But Lovino can manipulate him, know exactly what he’s going to do and how to stop him, and it terrifies Gilbert. When he’s remembers this, he has to remind himself that Lovino is many things, but he’s not abusive. He would never be. Whatever he may say will not hurt the Prussian, and he has to believe that because otherwise he might give in to his instincts and run from him.

Run to save himself, like he was so good at doing. Eventually, there would be nowhere left to run. They’d taken his land and power, now he had nothing besides Lovino. If he ran from that, what else would he have?

He thinks about that a lot. Not about actually leaving, because unless they’re fighting, and it’s bad, he has no reason to. But sometimes Gilbert finds himself thinking about what things would be like if he did leave, or even if he’d never been with Lovinos. It’s when he’s thinking of this that he’s reminded why he has to stay.

For one, he would never get to wake up beside Lovino, and he knows that he would miss that more than anything. Seeing Lovino, subdued and calm in the early morning (or rarely, later in the day, when they were up all night and then he looks even better). He would miss the Italian’s warmth, and the way he unconsciously moves closer to Gilbert in his sleep only to vehemently deny it when he wakes.

Or there’s Lovino’s cooking, which he always claims is worse than his _fratello_ ’s despite what Gilbert may think otherwise. Yes, he got to eat Feliciano’s food a lot before he started spending so much time with Lovino, but it wasn’t the same as having Lovino cook specifically for him.

He would miss the house, and the stupid town with its confusing streets that Lovino knows so well. He would miss seeing Lovino so at home, more confident than he ever was anywhere else in the world because this is his home and not even Feliciano knows it like he does. Gilbert realised, he doesn’t know when, but he realised that Lovino feels safe here. When he’s here, he doesn’t have to live up to Feliciano, doesn’t have to compare himself to the more talented, better-liked younger Italian. What Gilbert treasures above all else is that Lovino trusts the Prussian enough to be that way around him too.

And he knows there are other times, when he can sit with Lovino, and not have to say anything because they both know what the other is thinking. It’s not like when he’s with his _bruder_ , which can dissolve into awkward silence fast, or when he’s with Antonio and Francis, which is loud, loud, _loud_ all the time. Being with Lovino is loud in a way that nothing else is, even when both of them are silent. It’s unconsciously hearing what the other is thinking, and feeling Lovino warm and solid beside him and being able to pull him close and kiss him whenever he wants.

Which is another thing, because Lovino usually pushes everyone away. Gilbert knows that he is one of the few people Lovino pulls closer, and he feels unbelievably lucky for it. He wonders if he’ll ever fully understand how they work, or why they ever ended up together, but Gilbert somehow knows that he won’t. He’s not supposed to understand, he’s just supposed to be grateful that he was given this, at least, when everything else was taken from him.

And Lovino is everything Gilbert can’t be, and many things that he always has been. They’re both the underappreciated older brother, which is just one thing that binds them together in a way nobody else could possibly understand. But Lovino is more than that, he’s a culture and a history and land and language and so many other things that thrive and live. Gilbert was these things, but now he is nothing but a shadow of a former nation. Seeing Lovino should remind him of that, should make him feel anger or pain or just something other than the feelings he can’t explain that Lovino brings out in him.

But both of them are smart, and loud and hold grudges against the world. And maybe one day, these things will pile up between them and become dark and biter, will drive them apart, but Gilbert has sworn to himself that he will do everything in his power to stop that from happening.

He can’t remember the last time he so desperately depended on a relationship like this. There was Elizabeta, with her frying pan and iron will, who could control Gilbert even when he didn’t want to be controlled. They clashed and argued and Gilbert had once thought they could thrive on that, because he craved it and needed like he needed air. In the end, she had been the one to see how toxic their relationship had become, she had been the one to walk away. Perhaps that was why Gilbert so often thought of running now, because surely it was better to hurt than be hurt, to leave than stay and suffer. The only thought that binds him here, in those moments of panic, when he’s tearing himself apart because this is new and terrifying, is that it’s Lovino he would be hurting, and he cannot bear that.

It is these things, and a thousand others that Gilbert can’t even begin to list, that make him stay. This is why they work, and why Gilbert will _make_ them work, because he’s not willing to give up these things for anything, and he’s not willing to let anyone hurt Lovino, not even himself.


	35. Bike

“You drive a motorbike?”

Gilbert hadn’t really expected _this_. Not that he’d been expecting anything in particular, but if he had then this wouldn’t have been it. Lovino had told him they were going on a daytrip, and Gilbert had grabbed his things and followed him outside. He’d been a little confused when the Italian had headed towards the garage instead of to the car, which was sitting in the driveway like usual. Gilbert had always just assumed he couldn’t be bothered putting it away, but now he knew better.

In the centre of the garage sat an impressive, red motorbike. It was well looked after, Lovino obviously cared about it a lot. Gilbert was honestly surprised he hadn’t seen it by now, although he’d never thought there’d be anything interesting in the garage so why would he have come out here before?

“Don’t act so surprised,” Lovino said, smirking. “Ducati, remember?”

Gilbert didn’t have time to process that statement before a helmet was being shoved into his arms, and for some reason it fit perfectly. He wondered how long Lovino had been planning this, but again his thoughts were cut short as Lovino mounted the bike, staring at him impatiently.

“You coming or what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s the hurry?” Gilbert asked, sliding onto the bike behind Lovino.

“It’s a long drive,” Lovino said, then looked down, even though Gilbert was behind him and couldn’t meet his eyes. “And I like driving the bike, okay?”

Gilbert chuckled and wrapped his arms around the Italian’s waist. Lovino started the bike, engine roaring to life before settling into a quiet hum as they drove out of the garage. Lovino had to pause to close the garage door, turning to Gilbert.

“You holding on?” he asked, voice betraying his excitement despite his neutral expression. Gilbert tightened his grip in response.

The second he did the bike shot forward, tearing down the long driveway towards the quiet streets of Segni. Gilbert was still amazed at the ease with which Lovino navigated the streets, taking only a few turns before they were out of the town and heading along a mountainous path at incredible speeds.

“Where are we going?” Gilbert asked, struggling to be heard over the engine.

“The Amalfi coast, it’s a few hours away but the trip’s half the fun,” Lovino yelled back, turning his head slightly towards Gilbert.

The Prussian shrugged and nodded, then remembered Lovino couldn’t see him and settled for resting against Lovino’s back as he drove. The entire experience was exhilarating, from the speed to the incredible view in the valley below to Lovino in front of him, handling the bike as easily and confidently as if they weren’t travelling as fast as some of the most powerful cars on the road.

After a while, the mountains gave way on one side to the ocean, shining a spectacular blue in the midday sun. By the time they reached the Amalfi coast, and Lovino began to slow down to drive through the first of many towns along it, Gilbert had a new appreciation for travelling by bike.

“How come I’ve never seen you drive this thing before?” Gilbert asked as he pulled off his helmet, Lovino turning off the bike.

“I don’t, not all the time anyway,” Lovino replied, setting his own helmet aside and running hand through his hair to smooth it down. As always, his one haywire curl refused to obey gravity.

“Why not?” Lovino shrugged in response.

“I don’t like wasting her, I only drive her when I can enjoy it.”

Gilbert didn’t comment on the bike being a ‘her’, instead choosing to put an arm across Lovino’s shoulders and pull him close as they walked down the main street of the small town they’d ended up in.

“Are we going anywhere in particular?” he asked, looking around. There were a few shops, some cafes and the occasional empty storefront, but he figured there had to be something worth stopping for or Lovino would have rather kept driving.

“There’s a gelato shop up here,” Lovino said, nodding in the general direction they were walking.

The gelato ended up being pretty good, and so did everything else Lovino showed Gilbert in all the other towns they stopped at. By the time they returned to Segni, it was getting dark and neither of them could deny they were tired after the massive day, as much as Lovino would’ve protested it if it meant he could keep driving.

“That was awesome,” Gilbert said as Lovino unlocked the front door, grinning down at his Italian.

Lovino smiled proudly in response, for once a genuine expression rather than his usual forced scowl. Gilbert couldn’t help leaning down to kiss him, catching Lovino off guard. The shorter man squeaked in surprise before responding, smiling into the kiss.

“ _Idiota_ ,” he murmured as he pulled back, but he was still smiling, a light blush dusting his cheeks.


	36. Song #3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Song-Like it's her Birthday by Good Charlotte

This had probably been a bad idea.

The two of them together didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to parties. Why either of them had thought this would be different, Gilbert didn’t know. Maybe because Alfred wasn’t hosting it, in fact he wasn’t even there. It was strictly European nations tonight, but still…both of them going out and getting drunk around the other nations was a recipe for disaster. And for slip-ups.

Francis and Ludwig already knew about them. It wasn’t like they could risk anybody else finding out, they were on a slippery slope as it was already. How long would it be before their secret was out? Not long if they continued like this.

None of which had anything to do with the fact that Gilbert had lost Lovino about half an hour ago. He hadn’t thought anything of it for a while, just that Lovino had probably gone to get another drink. It wasn’t until he’d realised how long it’d been that he started to get worried. As drunk as he was, Lovino could be doing something stupid.

Which he was.

Gilbert wasn’t even sure how Lovino had managed to get onto the table after drinking that much, although it was definitely a possibility that either Francis or Ivan had pulled him up. Lovino wasn’t exactly the type to get up on a table and start dancing, drunk or not. Gilbert was actually more concerned with how the hell the table was supporting all of their weight, especially with the large Russian dancing on it.

Even though he knew he really shouldn’t, Gilbert couldn’t help but take out his phone and record some of…whatever was going on. He took a few pictures too, smirking at the good ones. Lovino was definitely going to regret this in the morning, especially if Gilbert had to remind him about it first. Now, how to go about getting Lovino off the table without completely screwing both of them over?

The answer turned out to be a lot simpler than he’d thought. He’d been right to think the table wasn’t designed to take the weight of a dancing Russian, Frenchman and Italian. Just as Gilbert was about to return his phone to his pocket, a large crack sounded from the table. The three nations atop it continued dancing obliviously, and Gilbert pressed the record button just in time to capture the table buckling under the strain. The three drunken nations remained oblivious until they came crashing down to the ground, laying dazed in a mess of splintered wood.

The room immediately descended into silence, someone having the sense to stop the music as the rest of the partygoers stood staring down at the remains of the table. The three nations affected had very differing reactions. Ivan was surrounded by a dark purple aura, darkly letting out constant chant of ‘kolkolkol’. Francis had been knocked unconscious, or had passed out after landing on the ground, Gilbert couldn’t be sure. Strangely, Lovino looked the least affected, sitting slightly confused and mostly conscious on the floor.

After a few moments of stunned silence, everyone sprung into action. A few people approached Ivan hesitantly, attempting to help him up despite the Russian’s assurances that he was fine. Feliciano was at his brother’s side in an instant, Ludwig trotting dutifully after him. Gilbert desperately wanted to go to him, but with Francis lying unconscious on the floor he knew it would look suspicious if he didn’t go to his friend’s side. Antonio was already beside him, and Lovino was just going to love him going to Francis and Antonio rather than him, if he remembered. Gilbert really hoped he didn’t.

“Francis, wake up,” he said as Antonio gently shook the blonde nation. When he didn’t respond, they exchanged a glance.

“We should probably get him to his room,” Antonio said. Gilbert nodded.

Wordlessly they each slung one of the Frenchman’s arms across their shoulders, supporting his weight between them as they half carried, half dragged him up the stairs to the guest rooms. By the time they’d deposited Francis unceremoniously on his bed, Antonio was swaying on his feet and Gilbert was reminded of how much he’d had to drink.

“I think I’ll call it a night,” Antonio said, shaking his head slightly to clear it.

“Me too,” Gilbert admitted, although he had other plans in mind.

As soon as Antonio had disappeared into his room, Gilbert moved from where he’d been standing in his doorway, pretending to enter the room, intent on finding Lovino. It wouldn’t be that hard to get near him, since Feliciano would be there meaning Ludwig would as well, giving Gilbert a legitimate reason to hang around Lovino.

Fortunately, it turned out to be a lot simpler than that. He nearly collided with Feliciano and Ludwig on the staircase, both attempting to help a protesting Lovino to his room.

Ludwig looked about ready to give up and leave Lovino swaying on the stairs, while Feliciano was torn between exasperation and concern.

“He okay?” Gilbert asked, nodding towards Lovino.

“I told you two I’m fine! I can get to my own damn room,” Lovino said, pulling himself unsteadily up the stairs.

Feliciano whined quietly as Lovino refused his help, pouting even as Ludwig wrapped an arm around him. Without thinking, Gilbert spoke.

“I’ll make sure he gets to his room,” he said, internally slapping himself for letting it slip.

Luckily, Feliciano seemed to tipsy to really question the Prussian’s motives. Smiling brightly, he embraced Gilbert with as much strength as he could managed before turning on his heel to wobble back down to the party, which seemed to be going in full swing again judging from the music now blaring.

After a second’s hesitation, Ludwig nodded to his brother before following Feliciano, albeit surer on his feet. The sound of a loud bang drew Gilbert’s attention to the hallway behind him, where he found Lovino sprawled out on the ground, rubbing his head.

“How much did you drink?” Gilbert asked as he hoisted him up, not expecting an answer. He didn’t get one.

Supporting most of the Italian’s weight, Gilbert managed to drag Lovino into his room. He laid him on the bed with much more care than he had Francis, locking the door behind them quickly before returning to Lovino’s side. In the few seconds he’d been away, Lovino had passed out. Gilbert just hoped he didn’t have a concussion.

He remembered a day in Paris, when he’d been the one drunk and acting stupidly, and he’d been the one hurt. Lovino had been the one to come rescue him then, although Gilbert hadn’t been fast enough to actually catch Lovino when he fell. Sometimes he really wished they could just tell everyone that they were dating, and this was one of those moments.

But he knew, as well as Lovino did, that there may never come a time for that. So instead of thinking about what he wanted, Gilbert focused on what he had, which was a drunk, injured and unconscious Italian. With a sigh that was entirely forced, he pulled the covers over Lovino before laying down beside him, brushing hair out of the Italian’s closed eyes before curling up around him protectively, eyes falling shut. That was how he fell asleep, holding Lovino close and wondering how much of this either would remember in the morning.


	37. Night

In the Italian countryside, high up on the hilltop town, the sky was dotted with countless stars. Beyond the lights of the large cities there was nothing to block them out, to dim their presence in the sky. Berlin wasn’t like this, with too much smoke and light, endlessly blocking the night from those looking up. Gilbert supposed Rome was like that too, though he hadn’t spent enough time there to know.

Lovino found him on the porch, staring up at the stars with his head in his hand and a faraway look in his eyes.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, sitting beside him.

“Nothing,” Gilbert responded, wrapping an arm around him instinctively. Lovino swore under his breath, taking Gilbert’s hand in his.

“You’re freezing!”

Gilbert hadn’t really realised the temperature. He’d had much worse, and as a nation (or an ex-nation, technically) he wasn’t exactly in that much danger from the weather.

“I’ll be fine,” he said dismissively, still staring up.

“What are you looking at?” Lovino asked, turning his eyes to the stars, half-expecting to see something else, something besides the sky.

Gilbert shrugged, taking his time with answering. What he was thinking and feeling wasn’t easy to put into words. It was bigger than that.

“They make you feel small,” Gilbert said finally. “The stars. Knowing there’s all that out there.”

Lovino looked to Gilbert, then back to the sky.

“What?” he said, confused.

“It’s hard to explain,” Gilbert replied. “Just…sometimes it gets too much, remembering what I used to be and what I lost and then-“ He cut himself off, sighing. “I panic, and it’s good to be able to see the stars. It doesn’t seem as big when I do, it’s easier to handle.”

Lovino nodded, beginning to understand. Nations were familiar with the strain of being an immortal being with the body of a human. Sometimes, in fact more often than not, it took its toll both physically and mentally.

Gilbert knew that this was one of the reasons he spent so much time there, besides wanting to be with Lovino. It was easier to forget out there, to forget the voices and memories, the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘should’ve-dones’. It was easier to forget who he’d been and how great he was once.

 Lovino rested against his side, warm and solid, and Gilbert knew the best way to forget was to remind himself what he had now. What he had was Lovino, and the secret they shared. What he had now, he would gladly trade everything he’d lost all over again for it. That was what he knew to be true now, and he hoped it would be true for a long time to come. The world had taken a lot from him, but not this. Gilbert would not let Lovino be added to a long list of what he’d lost.


	38. Fan

Lovino had noticed Gilbert was in an…interesting mood. By ‘interesting’, Lovino really meant Gilbert was being way more affectionate than normal. And by ‘affectionate’, he meant that Gilbert had decided to flop down on the bed and start making out with him quite eagerly, so it wasn’t exactly difficult for Lovino to figure out what kind of mood he was in. All of which would have been fine, Lovino had no problem lying in bed and making out with Gilbert for the better part of the afternoon, it certainly wouldn’t have been the first time they’d done it, except for the fact that it was _way_ too hot.

There were three fans pointed at the bed, two dragged in from around the house and one that had nearly broken when it fell out of attic, and the window had been thrown wide open. Lovino wasn’t entirely sure if the open window was helping or hindering, but closing it would require effort and also moving which he wasn’t doing anytime soon. Especially not with Gilbert practically lying on top of him, making cooling down that much more difficult.

All of which added up to the fact that he was getting tired of Gilbert not-so-lazily kissing him. Eventually, Lovino would have to do something about it. He’d been sort of trying to sleep before Gilbert had found his way into the bedroom, which of course had gone out the window the second he felt the Prussian’s lips pressed against his. And since it was so hot, neither of them had been bothered to wear a put on a shirt at any point during their day, which Lovino was regretting now because the heat led to sweat and Gilbert seemed to have made it his goal to press himself as close to Lovino as possible, which was really just sticky and uncomfortable for both of them even if he seemed to be the only one to notice it.

But he couldn’t convince himself to push Gilbert away. As much as it was almost exhausting to keep kissing back, it was also second nature to him now. That kind of spoke a lot about how far they’d come. Besides, Gilbert was actually a pretty good kisser, so it wasn’t at all bad lying next to the Prussian and being kissed senseless. And Lovino had been putting up with it for this long so just a little while longer probably wasn’t going to hurt either of them unless Gilbert found a way to get even closer to Lovino, who felt dangerously close to passing out from heat exhaustion

Despite all of which, it was kind of nice. He couldn’t really remember how long they’d been there, just that it had definitely been a lot longer than was probably reasonable to spend kissing any one person.

“Gil,” he said eventually, exhaustion causing it to come out as more of a whine. “Too hot for this.”

Gilbert paused for a few seconds, before nodding somewhat reluctantly and settling himself back on his side of the bed. If it had been any other time, it could’ve devolved into something else. As it was, Lovino was too tired for anything more, the unusual heat sapping his energy. He moved a little closer to Gilbert, smiling slightly as the Prussian’s hand came to rest on his hip, thumb rubbing lazy circles in the flesh above the waistband of his pants. The repetitive motion was calming, causing Lovino’s eyes to drop shut as he relaxed further into the bed.

“Later?” Gilbert asked, almost hopefully. Lovino nodded.

“Later,” he affirmed.

It was nice to actually be given a choice. Lovino knew that if he’d said no, Gilbert would’ve have made a big deal out of it. And it wasn’t like Lovino didn’t _want_ to go further, he was just really tired right now and Gilbert wasn’t begging him or anything so it could wait. For now, anyway.

There was probably something they should be doing. Gilbert was going back to Berlin in a few days, and Lovino could definitely have been doing something involving running his half of the country. If it hadn’t been so damn hot, they would at least still be making out. The heat wave had hit a lot of nations pretty hard. When he’d last spoken to Feliciano, Lovino had noticed even he’d been strangely subdued. There was nothing any of them could do about it though, so the only choice was to wait it out. It just seemed like they’d been doing a lot of waiting.

Lovino fell asleep sometime later, Gilbert following him quickly. Maybe when they woke up it would be cooler, evening chasing away some of the heat. That would be the time for continuing their previous activities, not now.


	39. Colour

It wasn’t something Lovino would ever admit to. It wasn’t even something he acknowledged himself, half the time. Gilbert would tease him endlessly for it, and if word ever got out to other nations-

Lovino couldn’t even think about that. That would be the end of any kind of reputation he had. No, nobody could ever know. But the fact remained that Gilbert was possibly his favourite thing to paint.

It wasn’t that it was easy, exactly. Getting something right, especially on canvas, almost never was. Lovino wouldn’t even say that he’d gotten it right yet anyway. He just…really enjoyed painting Gilbert.

For Lovino, it was all about the colours. If you asked anyone else, they’d just say he was an albino. Colourless, certainly not lifeless, but still just the shadow of a former nation. They’d mention his eyes, red and furious and the only part of him that ever really held any life.

Those were the literal colours. The things any casual observer could see, but they wouldn’t think about the meaning of those colours. They would never know why red and white were so important, beyond their physicality on his appearance.

Lovino saw those colours too, but they weren’t the things he painted. The palette wasn’t limited to white and red, it was so much broader than that.

First came the red, because it _was_ the most important thing, after all. It was his eyes, piercing and inquisitive, and his laugh, unique and sometimes grating even to Lovino. It was the colour that led into all the others, bleeding out into a thousand different shades and tones.

It wasn’t just for his eyes though. It was for his life and energy, the power he shouldn’t have still had but that somehow remained even now. It was has passion, in love and in life, bold and vibrant and _powerful_. But it was also the colour of blood, the blood Gilbert had spilt and the blood that he had lost. It was his battles, his losses, his wins.

Then there was the blue, deep, Prussian blue for everything that he had been and everything that he had lost. It was the darker times, when he was lost to the memories and sometimes even Lovino couldn’t pull him back. It was a darker, calmer colour, but it was also a heavy presence against the brighter and paler colours. Gilbert always had his memories. There was always a part of him, usually pushed below the surface, where it couldn’t harm anyone, that would remember everything. The blue dominated much of the canvas, broad, flat strokes carved into the other colours.

White was more than just his hair and skin. It was…the last part of him that remained pure, even after all the corruption, the war, the bloodshed. The betrayal he’d suffered, when everything was taken from him. It was his new beginnings, from the Teutonic Knights to the Kingdom of Prussia, then from a powerful nation to East Germany, sometimes forgotten even as that much. Gilbert had been corrupted and broken and built back up into someone else’s mould so many times, but there was still  part of him that was just Gilbert, just Prussia, not someone else’s idea of the perfect nation.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there was black. Darker than the blue, it wasn’t his memories. It wasn’t the things he’d done. Black was the things Gilbert imagined doing, the darkest part of his psyche, the part that longed for violence and chaos. Black was the colour that honestly scared Lovino a little. He’d never had to bear witness to that part of him before, not outside of the battlefield. But there were rumours and whispers, stories in history books. Even those who rejected his very existence now couldn’t deny how powerful Gilbert had once been. To think that there was still a part of him like that now terrified Lovino. He would do anything to stop from being subject to it, to protect himself from Gilbert’s darkness.

In the end, Gilbert was a hard nation to capture in paint. The colours were too static to properly represent him, it was too stationary a medium for everything that was essentially Gilbert. He moved and lived and laughed and spoke, paint could only ever show one instant in his life, and that was not nearly enough because it only took one instant for Gilbert to change completely. But Lovino still tried, and for the most part he felt as though he at least partially succeeded. Maybe one day he’d find the right way to combine the colours into something _living_ enough to be Gilbert. Until then, he’d keep trying. One thing was certain though, even if he got it right, Gilbert was never seeing these paintings.

Painting Gilbert made Lovino strangely morose. The first time, he’d expected to feel almost guilty, and terrified of getting caught. It had been hard enough getting hold of the photo he was working from, but sneaking off into the art studio for long enough to actually paint it made Lovino feel as though Gilbert was going to burst through the locked door at any moment. But instead of feeling hesitant and embarrassed, Lovino found it easy to paint when Gilbert was the subject. It was as if he needed this, in fact it was almost addicting. There were so many ways to capture Gilbert, and Lovino had made it his mission to have a painting to represent each and every side of the Prussian’s personality. It could take a lifetime, because it felt as if every single day Lovino saw something new in Gilbert that he wanted to immortalise on canvas.

But beyond the addictiveness, there was something else. When he painted Gilbert, Lovino felt almost sad. Not for himself, but on behalf of the Prussian. Lovino found himself painting like this more and more, not just to remember Gilbert, but in an attempt to understand how he felt, to try and understand what he’d been through as a nation. Lovino had his fair share of wars and scars, he’d been in battles too. His history was filled with gains and losses, wins and defeats, he knew what that was like. What he didn’t know, and hoped he would never know, was what it was like to lose everything. But while Lovino hoped desperately prayed that he would never be dissolved like Gilbert had, or have to give his half of Italy over to Feliciano as was his deepest fear, he wanted to understand. He owed Gilbert that much at least, to be able to comfort him when he was breaking down because none of it was fair, none of it should’ve ever happened and Lovino was going to be there for him damn it whether he liked it or not.

Painting Gilbert helped him to see those feelings, in a way that made sense to him. Maybe it was crazy, or stupid or even just plain wrong, maybe he had no idea what Gilbert was actually going through, but that didn’t stop him from trying. And at least he could say, if he was ever accused otherwise, that he did try. Lovino had tried in the only way that he knew how, to translate Gilbert’s raw emotions and memories into something tangible, something he could interpret. Lovino did try, and he hoped one day he would succeed. One day, maybe soon and maybe years into the future, Lovino would paint it right.


	40. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, full story is I dropped my laptop last night and completely broke it. I had to wait until today for it to be fixed, so I wasn’t able to get two chapter done today. Two will be up tomorrow to make up for none yesterday. Sorry guys!  
> Full Prompt: Action-Character must attend a wedding.

“Ciao, Lovi!”

Lovino held the phone away from his ear, grimacing at Feliciano’s voice. It was far too loud for this early in the morning.

“Ciao,” Lovino finally replied, yawning and cracking his neck. He wasn’t exactly happy about being woken up by the phone, but Feliciano was probably the one person who could get away with it. “What do you want?”

“Lovi you’ll never guess what happened!” Feliciano started, and Lovino could sense him about to start on one of his long-winded rambles. It was _definitely_ too early for that.

“Then why don’t you tell me?” Lovino said, deadpan. The sooner this conversation was over, the sooner he could lie back down and go to sleep. It wasn’t exactly like he’d gotten to bed early last night, it had been Gilbert’s first night back from Berlin.

“Oh, but that’s no fun!” Feliciano said, but he continued talking before Lovino even had a chance to speak. “Ludwig proposed to me!”

Well. Fuck. Lovino definitely hadn’t been expecting _that_. Not that he ever knew what to expect when Feliciano decided to call him at some ungodly hour, but _still_.

“I…when?” Lovino finally said. As much as he wanted to threaten to murder the damn potato bastard for corrupting his _fratellino_ , now wasn’t the time. And he highly doubted that Gilbert would appreciate getting woken up to hear his brother being insulted. He had to at least try to be quiet.

“Last night!” Feliciano sighed happily, seemingly completely unaware of his brother’s mounting urge slam down the phone and get on the first flight to Berlin to slap some sense into someone. One of them. Probably both, if he was honest.

“When’s the wedding?” Lovino asked. He didn’t know what else to say, and he knew his hands were beginning to shake. In a minute he was going to have to hang up just so he wouldn’t make his brother cry.

Beside him, Gilbert began to stir. Lovino cursed inwardly, he forgot to be quiet. He quickly turned to Gilbert, pointing to the phone and lifting a finger to his lips. Gilbert nodded, smirking as his eyes travelled down Lovino’s naked form. Lovino blushed and swatted at his chest, turning back as he realised Feliciano was talking again.

“…and we’ll figure out a date soon, but oh Lovi I can’t wait!”

The bed dipped as Gilbert shifted, draping himself across Lovino’s shoulders. The Italian shouldered him somewhere in his ribs, which did little do deter the Prussian. He couldn’t do much else without making some kind of noise, and having Feliciano find out about them was the last thing he needed on top of this.

“I have to go, Feli, uh….Linosa’s hungry.”

“Okay, Ciao _fratellone!_ ” Feliciano said happily, and Lovino could practically see him smiling.

“Ciao, Feli,” Lovino replied.

Lovino ended the call, sighing as he relaxed back against Gilbert. Lean arms circled his waist as his eyes slid shut, huffing through his nose. He’d only been awake five minutes, and already it’d been a big day.

“What was that about?” Gilbert asked, pulling Lovino closer.

“Feli’s getting married,” Lovino said, feeling a lot more tired than he should this early in the morning.

“West finally asked him?” Gilbert asked, and Lovino nodded. “Good on him!” Gilbert was already making plans to call his brother later, but that could wait. Right now he had Lovino all to himself and all day to make the most of it. Congratulating Ludwig was a task for later.

* * *

 

Four months later, Feliciano was married to Ludwig. It wasn’t like it was the worst thing that could happen, Lovino supposed. Ludwig did at least treat Feliciano right, even if Lovino couldn’t stand him most of the time. He pretended to brood the entire way through the wedding, even if he couldn’t help but smile when Feliciano jumped on Ludwig, kissing him to a soundtrack of cheers and clapping from the nations in attendance.

There was a party, of course. Lovino thought that for nations supposedly tasked with seriously representing their people, they really did spend a lot of time getting drunk. What exactly did that say about the state of the world?

Feliciano never moved more than an inch away from Ludwig, which was almost sickening for Lovino to watch. If his _fratello_ hadn’t been so happy, Lovino probably would have left there and then. But he knew that would make Feliciano upset, and that was the one thing he could never do. Especially not on his wedding night.

Fortunately, Gilbert was doing a pretty good job of distracting him.

“If you don’t like him, why are you still looking?” Gilbert asked, about half an hour into a conversation about something Lovino hadn’t been really paying attention to. Leaning against the wall beside one another, it was hard to have any kind of serious conversation. They couldn’t look too interested in one another. It was difficult, keeping the distance between them. But they still had their secret to keep, at least in the presence of the other nations.

“In case I have to rescue my _fratellino_ ,” Lovino replied, doing his best to look sour about the whole thing. Honestly, he just wanted it to be over with, he’d figured out a long time ago that nothing he did was going to make a difference between Feliciano and Ludwig.

Lovino couldn’t say the other reason he was watching. He had no idea how Gilbert react, but he did not think it would be good. Honestly….Lovino felt almost jealous. Not necessarily because Feliciano got married, although that was a part of it. That was the part Gilbert couldn’t know. But Feliciano could stand in front of every nation and declare his claim to Ludwig, something Lovino didn’t know if he could ever do.

He felt a hand closing around his, squeezing gently before dropping away.

It was a small gesture, a simple one. The short moment came and passed in an instant, but it was still something. Lovino turned towards Gilbert, just enough for the Prussian to see the half-smile on his lips.

Maybe one day, they wouldn’t have to hide anymore. Maybe.


	41. Regret

There were very few things you couldn’t say to Gilbert. He could take a few insults, he had to if he was going to date Lovino. The Prussian had thick skin. Usually he’d laugh things off, even if Lovino was genuinely angry with him. Mostly that just made the Italian even madder, since it was so hard to get on Gilbert’s nerves. Maybe that was why he’d finally said it. He just wanted to get a reaction.

To Lovino’s credit, he’d managed to wear Gilbert down considerably before he’d even thought about saying it. Neither of them could entirely remember what they’d been arguing about in the first place, although Lovino sort of remembered Gilbert making a passing remark involving Feliciano. Now he couldn’t even remember if he was pissed for his own sake, or for his _fratello_ ’s.

“For someone so small, you really do like putting up one hell of a fight,” Gilbert remarked, surveying Lovino with wearied amusement. They’d been at this for far too long.

“Shut up bastard,” Lovino said, growling quietly. Everything Gilbert said was pissing him off at this point.

“Just saying, you’d think someone so short would have a shorter attention span. But apparently you can’t let things go.”

It wasn’t even that bad of a comment. They’d been arguing for what felt like hours, and if Lovino wasn’t so proud he probably would have admitted it was stupid by now and ended things. But he _was_ proud, and he was getting tired of this stupid fight, and there was only one was he knew to end things that didn’t involve him admitting he was wrong. Getting Gilbert to walk away.

“At least I’m still a nation,” he said, smirking. When Gilbert froze, he knew he’d won.

“ _Half_ a nation.” Gilbert’s tone was far too even. That should’ve been the moment Lovino figured out he’d gone too far. Of course though, it wasn’t.

“Still more of a nation than you,” he replied.

Gilbert swore in German, before turning and storming out of the room. It took Lovino approximately half a second to realise he’d made a mistake. That was also the same amount of time it took for the front door to slam shut.

For a while, and Lovino couldn’t say how long it was exactly, he just felt numb. It was if his body had stopped responding, and his brain had started going overdrive. How could he have been so stupid? Why had that ever, _ever_ , seemed like a good idea? What was wrong with him?

These thoughts ran themselves through his head, growing louder and louder and bigger and bigger until a loud sob escaped him, half-sounding like a scream, and he fell to his knees.

Why did he always ruin everything?

Before he knew what he was doing, Lovino drove his fist into the ground. It hurt, but the pain was satisfying and also not enough. So he did it again, and again, until he couldn’t feel his knuckles and they were bruised black and blue. Then he collapsed onto the hard floorboards, the collision jolting the bones along his side but he still just _did not care_.

Lovino couldn’t do anything right. He knew he couldn’t do anything right, yet he still managed to forget it and go right ahead and mess everything up. He couldn’t even go looking for Gilbert. If he’d taken his phone with him-which Lovino doubted-there was no way he’d answer it, or respond to any of Lovino’s texts. He’d probably just throw it against a brick wall somewhere. If he tried to find Gilbert, he’d just be wasting his time. If Gilbert didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. They both knew that this was as good a town as any to get lost in, or to hide in.

Lovino didn’t know how long he was lying there, feeling emotionless and empty because there was simply too many thoughts in his head for him to even consider thinking about so he just tuned him out. It must have been a while, because Linosa wandered in, meowing haughtily. She only ever made a fuss when she was hungry, though her mews became far more concerned when she discovered Lovino lying on the ground. He hadn’t realised there were tears on his cheeks until she licked them away. It tickled, and despite himself Lovino laughed a little, pushing her away.

“Bad ‘Nosa!” he scolded, pushing her away gently.

Linosa only meowed against before settling herself against Lovino’s chest, comforting him. At least she didn’t hate him yet.

He felt like a mess. Lovino had been the one to hurt Gilbert, yet he was the one lying on the floor, eyes bloodshot and fist throbbing. When he looked down, he saw dried blood where the skin had split.

It seemed like an eternity passed before the sound of the front door opening made its way into the living room. By that point, he didn’t even have the strength to push himself off the floor, let alone pretend he hadn’t been crying. Lovino expected Gilbert to get mad at him, to yell and ask him why he’d collapsed on the floor when he’d been the one to make Gilbert leave. Gilbert had the right to be upset, he didn’t. So now he felt weak, useless, stupid and guilty. Great. That was just how he wanted Gilbert to find him.

“Scheiße, Lovi!”

Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected. Swearing yes, but not the concern in his voice. Lovino didn’t deserve that. Why the hell was Gilbert concerned about him? Lovino wanted him to yell, or to get mad, because that was how he was supposed to react. Lovino had said something horrible, and now Gilbert was acting as though Lovino was the one who’d been hurt.

“What did you do?” Gilbert asked, crouching down beside him. Lovino didn’t have the energy to pull away when Gilbert grabbed his hand, inspecting his knuckles. Linosa slipped out from between them, rubbing herself against Lovino’s back before stalking off to the kitchen, uninterested in whatever happened between the two nations.

“I’m an idiot,” Lovino muttered.

“Saying one stupid thing doesn’t make you an idiot,” Gilbert said, dropping Lovino’s hand. He winced as it was placed back against the floor, saying nothing.

Gilbert left the room, walking into the bathroom. A few seconds later there came the sound of someone rummaging through the bathroom cupboards, until Gilbert came back with some basic first aid supplies in his hand.

Lovino felt like crying again. Why was Gilbert doing this for him? He didn’t deserve any of this. He deserved the pain he was feeling, both from his thoughts and from his physical wounds.

“What did you, punch a brick wall?” Gilbert asked. Lovino remained silent, not bothering to correct him.

He hissed in pain as Gilbert cleaned his hand. The Prussian occasionally muttered under his breath as he saw deeper cuts and bruises hidden beneath the dried blood, but otherwise stayed silent. Eventually a bandage was wrapped loosely around his knuckles, and Gilbert held Lovino’s hand within his own

“I crossed the line,” Lovino said, voice small.

“Are you going to do it again?” Gilbert asked, cocking his head.

“Hell no!” Lovino practically yelled, voice rising above a whisper for the first time since Gilbert’s return.

“Then there’s no point thinking about it anymore.” Gilbert shrugged, leaning against the couch. Tiredly, Lovino shuffled up until he was beside him, resting heavily on Gilbert’s shoulder.

“I’m still sorry,” Lovino said quietly. He still felt like a failure for doing something so stupid. They’d been together for over a year and he still managed to make huge mistakes.

“How’s your hand?” Gilbert asked.

“Sore,” Lovino admitted.

“Seriously, what did you punch?” Gilbert asked, tone considerably lighter than it had been a few moments ago.

“The floor,” Lovino finally said, after a few seconds of hesitation.

“That must’ve taken a few hits,” Gilbert said. Lovino merely shrugged in response.

Gilbert looped an arm around him, and Lovino felt himself relaxing against the Prussian despite still being mad at himself. He was exhausted, and honestly didn’t think he had the strength to move away even if he’d really wanted to.

“Come on, let’s watch a movie or something,” Gilbert suggested, slowly standing and pulling Lovino to his feet. They only had to sit back onto the couch, but it was still tiring.

“Okay,” Lovino said meekly, feeling as though Gilbert was being far too forgiving. Maybe it was because he knew the torture Lovino was inflicting upon himself.

He didn’t end up paying much attention to whatever Gilbert put on. Lovino fell asleep barely five minutes into it, and Gilbert followed him shortly after. Maybe later they would talk about this, maybe not, but at least Gilbert had come back. To Lovino, that was a small miracle, and it managed to replace some of the anger he felt towards himself with hope.


	42. Always

Against his better judgement, Lovino spent a lot of time thinking about what would happen if Gilbert finally faded away.

It made sense, after all. His country had been dissolved years ago, and he didn’t have any land anymore. His people were scattered throughout other nations and Prussian blood was slowly disappearing from families. How many children in the world even knew about Prussia’s existence anymore? There was no way Gilbert could last like this. Then again, maybe he would outlast all of them. Gilbert was probably just strange enough to find a way to cheat death. Or he was just too stubborn to go just because his time was up. It was a very Gilbert thing to do, Lovino thought.

Still, Lovino thought about it often, even if he wished he didn’t. Sometimes it was easy to brush the possibility aside. Gilbert was too _real_ to just disappear into thin air. He was solid and loud and always there, even when you kind of wished he wasn’t. Lovino had memorised how he felt, his skin and hair and lips, and he wasn’t imagining those things, so the thought of Gilbert just suddenly not being there didn’t make sense to him. How could someone with such a big presence just vanish without leaving a trace?

But it was still a very real possibility. And when he thought about it like that, Lovino couldn’t help but go into a very dark place. Those were the times he got stuck in a cycle, forcing himself further and further down the rabbit hole that this had turned into.

First he’d depress himself, wondering about how exactly Gilbert would fade away. Would it be sudden, or would it be slow? And which would hurt Lovino the most? Maybe there’d be signs, like Gilbert getting weaker until he couldn’t even stand up anymore, until finally he literally wasted away to nothing. The thought that most scared Lovino in the world, more than his _fratello_ getting hurt or even being forgotten himself, was waking up to find Gilbert had vanished in the middle of the night. Sometimes he woke up panicking, having to practically attach himself to Gilbert just to make sure the albino was still there. Those were the times Lovino knew he would rather Gilbert fade away slowly. It was selfish, because what if it was painful for him? Even knowing it might be, Lovino still prayed that Gilbert wouldn’t go suddenly. He knew he wouldn’t survive that lost, not with his sanity and his heart intact.

Then he started thinking about what it would be like afterwards. Most of the nations wouldn’t understand his depression. It made him angry to think that some of them might even be glad Gilbert was finally gone. He knew there were some angered by his continued survival, by the fact that he’d somehow survived when so many others, ones that _they_ thought were more worthy, had vanished.

Lovino would be forced to hide his grief, just like he’d had to hide his sadness after _Nonno Roma_ had passed away. He’d had to be strong for Feliciano then, he hadn’t been able to break down like he’d so desperately wanted to do because they were just two _children_ and how were they supposed to survive on their own? If Gilbert faded away, then he’d have to wear a mask just like he had back then. Lovino’s heart would fracture just a little bit more, and maybe this would be the time it would shatter entirely.

Which always made him think about the things he would regret. Most importantly, Lovino knew he would regret never being able to tell people that Gilbert was his, never being able to tell other nations their secret because he wasn’t brave enough. At first they’d used Antonio as an excuse, but now Lovino knew that they were just hiding behind it because neither of them were brave enough to break out of the secrecy they’d grown accustomed to. They never even talked about it, because both of them secretly knew they wouldn’t be able to think of a reason not to keep sneaking around like they did.

These were the times he’d never been able to tell Gilbert what he was thinking about. When he went quiet and cold, Lovino barely uttered a word. As much as the Prussian prodded and poked and one time even begged, he was that desperate to know, Lovino couldn’t do it.

He just hadn’t factored in how stubborn Gilbert could be.

“Come on, please tell me,” Gilbert asked, for what _must_ have been the hundredth time in the past five minutes.

“Go away,” Lovino said, sighing and curling up tighter on the bed.

“Not until you tell me why you’ve been moping around in here all afternoon,” Gilbert replied, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Gil,” Lovino whined. “Why is it so important?”

“If it’s not important then why can’t you tell me?” Gilbert shot back. Lovino wondered if he knew how much of a child he sounded like, though he supposed he was being childish as well by refusing to tell him what he was thinking about.

“Because, that’s why!” Lovino yelled, and it was definitely the most childish thing he’d ever said.

Gilbert look slightly hurt at Lovino’s refusal, which instantly made Lovino feel bad. Which of course made him want to tell Gilbert, just to stop getting him to stop looking at him with the expression that he _must_ have learnt from Feliciano. Nobody else knew how to do puppy dog eyes that could get even Lovino to melt.

“I just…keep thinking about what’ll happen if you disappear,” Lovino finally admitted. It felt like he was confessing a great secret, but at the same time like he was letting go of something heavy, feeling lighter already.

“Why would you think about something as unawesome as that?” Gilbert asked, flopping back onto the bed heavily to stare at the ceilings.

“Because it could happen! It could happen in a hundred years, or next month or next week, or what if it happens tomorrow?” Lovino could feel his chest constricting as panic set in, his breaths becoming shorter and hands beginning to shake. This always happened when things were out of his control.

“Lovi, I’m not fading away. Not anytime soon,” Gilbert said.

“How do you know?” Lovino demanded. He blinked back the tears that were forming in his eyes, refusing to let them fall.

“Because I am still just as awesome as ever,” Gilbert replied cockily, earning him a slap on the shoulder.

“That’s not an answer, bastard,” Lovino grumbled. Gilbert sighed, shifting and pulling Lovino towards him so they were facing.

“I swear on whatever life I still have left in me that I will tell you if I think I’m fading away. Alright?” Gilbert asked, expression serious for once.

Slowly, Lovino nodded, some of his fear dissipating. He felt like he could breathe properly again, and when Gilbert took Lovino’s hands in his they were no longer shaking.

There was still the possibility that Prussia might fade out of the world’s memory one day, and Gilbert might disappear along with it, but Lovino could still do this. He could still lie here now and not worry about what might happen, because even if Gilbert was gone, Lovino would always remember this. Warm hands, warm breath, warm eyes, and the feeling of Gilbert’s lips against his when he kissed him deeply, banishing the last of Lovino’s unease.


	43. Sunshine

Gilbert couldn’t remember the last day they’d had like this. There was nothing that needed to be done, nobody was going to distract them, and Lovino was at his side. The Italian had grudgingly agreed to go on a picnic, although he vehemently protested against referring to it as one, since it was summer again and it had turned out to be a really nice day despite the forecast.

There was a half-filled basket of food between them, on a blanket Lovino had pulled out of a dust-covered corner of the attic. The rest of the food had been eaten, the only indication of its existence a few crumbs scattered around them. It was warm, the sun beating down between sparse, white clouds. Gilbert couldn’t help but notice how Lovino’s skin glowed bronze in the bright light, which in his opinion was a really good reason to lean down and kiss him quickly. Not that Gilbert really needed a reason, since he usually kissed Lovino a lot anyway, but it was nice to have one so Lovino couldn’t really complain as much.

Lovino had his head resting on Gilbert’s shoulder, for once smiling genuinely despite Gilbert’s constant affections. It was nice to have him close, his guard down and completely relaxed. It made Gilbert feel like someone actually trusted him, which was still so new. Gilbert decided that it was a good day. They’d been having a lot of good days recently. The half-empty bottle of wine in the middle of the blanket certainly hadn’t hurt, the warm buzz in his skull helping more than anything.

Lovino hummed quietly as Gilbert carded a hand through his hair, the sound quickly turning to a whine as the Prussian’s fingers brushed against the prominent curl sticking out from the rest.

“What are you doing, bastard?” Lovino asked, glaring up at him. Gilbert smirked, despite his best attempts to appear innocent. Lovino instantly knew he’d done it on purpose.

“Nothing,” he shrugged, ‘accidentally’ nudging Lovino’s curl again. The Italian blushed, jerking his head away from Gilbert’s shoulder and sitting up.

“Bullshit,” he mumbled, scowling and crossing his arms. “Don’t do shit like that!”

“Why not?” Gilbert asked, raising an eyebrow. Lovino spluttered at his nonchalance.

“Because we’re-anybody could walk by!” Lovino exclaimed, as though the secluded field they were sitting in was likely to be passed by anyone out on their morning stroll.

Gilbert responded by grabbing Lovino by the waist and pressing their lips together, holding him tightly as the Italian fought to escape from his grip. When Lovino finally managed to break free, his cheeks were red and he looked as though he was stuck between yelling at Gilbert or kissing him again. He chose the former.

“What did I just say?” he demanded, throwing his hands out exasperatedly.

“Relax,” Gilbert said, kissing him again just long enough to shut Lovino up. “Nobody’s going to come past here. It was difficult enough for us to find it, what makes you think anybody else will?”

“They still could! Somebody could see us!”

“And if they do?” Gilbert asked, still seeming remarkably calm. “It’s not like it’d be anyone we know, who cares if some mortals get a bit more excitement than they planned on?”

Lovino opened his mouth, closing it quickly when he couldn’t think of a reply. There wasn’t _really_ any reason they couldn’t do this, except for the fact that it would get very awkward if someone came past. Which was a good enough reason for Lovino, until Gilbert’s hand found its way back to his hair and his lips were on Lovino’s again which both made thinking straight very difficult.  

The fact that he was suddenly straddling Gilbert’s lap should have been more concerning than it was at this point, because he honestly had no idea how he got there. Lovino also really should have cared that Gilbert’s hands were underneath his shirt, dull nails digging into his back and hips, but that was another thing which didn’t really seem that important as he sunk further into the kiss.

“I’m still completely against this, bastard,” Lovino said as Gilbert sat back, looking at him. Suddenly Lovino felt self-conscious, but then again Gilbert often made him feel like that. He had to resist the urge to turn away, to shield himself from the Prussian’s gaze.

“No you’re not,” Gilbert replied, smirking.

Lovino couldn’t argue, because Gilbert was absolutely right. And that was why when Gilbert pulled him closer, their chests pressed together, Lovino was the one to kiss him first. The muffled squeak the Prussian let out made it worth it too.


	44. Romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Genre-Romance

Lovino wasn’t an idiot. He knew how the whole romance thing worked, he was _Italian_ for fuck’s sake! Flirting with pretty girls, even acting like a gentleman towards them, was pretty much second nature to him now. Even though he would rather die than admit it, just like he would rather die than let on to the fact that he had a hidden stash of romance novels at his house. It was bad enough that Gilbert had seen them, but the thought of anyone else knowing made Lovino want to die of embarrassment.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Gilbert was trying to be romantic. Lovino found it hilarious, in an endearing way. He might’ve even called it cute, except that Lovino Vargas did _not_ , under any circumstances, use the word ‘cute’.

The kisses were the first clue. Gilbert often kissed Lovino, but it was usually either playful and quick, or deep and passionate. Lately Gilbert had been kissing him slowly and softly, holding Lovino as gently as if he was made of glass. It wasn’t all the time-Lovino didn’t know if he could stand that-but just sometimes, and it was different.

Then there was the way he kept doing things for Lovino. They were just small things, like offering to do the shopping when he stayed over for more than a few days, or bringing Lovino breakfast-even if his food was nowhere near as good as Lovino’s, it was still nice to have someone do it for him.

But the biggest hint, by far, were the compliments. Lovino was used to hearing ‘cute’, ‘adorable’, ‘funny’, ‘talented’, but only ever in reference to Feliciano. Never were these words directed towards him. Lovino had often wondered what it was like to be noticed like Feliciano, now he knew.

Lovino wasn’t complaining about these things, he really wasn’t. He was just curious about the _why_?

Why him? Gilbert had his pick of nations, more powerful, stronger, richer, more talented nations. Lovino didn’t understand why he was the one Gilbert had chosen, and why he was the one Gilbert was trying to romance.

And if Lovino was honest, he was succeeding at it.

One day, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking. Gilbert had brought him lunch, since Lovino had been working all morning and hadn’t had time to cook. It was nice, even if it wasn’t Italian food, and Lovino had found himself wondering.

“I made lunch!” Gilbert said proudly, holding up two full plates of food.

“Why?” Lovino asked, as Gilbert set one of the plates down before him.

“Because you were busy,” Gilbert said, shrugging. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“No,” Lovino said, closing his laptop. As hungry as he was, even Gilbert’s cooking looked appealing. “Why do you do all this?”

“All what?” Gilbert asked, sitting next to him.

“The cooking, the-the kisses,” he said, blushing. “You act differently when you’re here.”

Gilbert shrugged, suddenly getting a lot quieter. Lovino looked down, picking at his food. Suddenly he wasn’t so hungry anymore.

“I’m comfortable here,” Gilbert said. “I don’t have that anywhere else. I can let my guard down around you and-“ He ducked his head, cheeks burning. It was so much easier to see on Gilbert’s pale skin. “You deserve to know that.”

Lovino turned Gilbert’s head, kissing him quickly. He refused to meet the Prussian’s eye as he looked down to his food, lifting a bite to his mouth.

“Thanks for lunch,” Lovino said quietly. Gilbert laughed through his nose, smiling.

“No problem.”


	45. Green

It’s funny how pain dulls over time.

Two years ago, Lovino would’ve thought nothing could hurt more than the thought of Antonio. Nothing else seemed to matter, except the sharpness of being not only free, but alone. Leaving Antonio was a continuing struggle to stay away, to convince himself that this was worth it.

Trying to get over him had been Lovino’s constant burden, and weighed heavily on his mind no matter what he was doing.

‘Would he like this?’

‘Should I be talking to those nations?’

‘Am I making the right decisions?’

Lovino had to work hard to break out of old habits. His entire way of thinking had to change. No more asking for permission, no more justifying his actions. No more help in making difficult decisions.

Being alone was the hardest part. For as long as he could remember, Lovino always had Antonio to depend on. First he’d lived with him, then he’d allied with him and finally he’d loved him. Antonio and Lovino. They were almost indistinguishable from one another.

Becoming just ‘Lovino’ was one of the toughest things he’d ever done. Lovino barely remembered who he was before Antonio. What had he been like back then? Who had he gone to when he had to make a tough call regarding his country? It certainly hadn’t been Feliciano, even as children he’d known better than to do that. Before Antonio, he’d always been alone. Leaving Antonio had terrified him, because being alone against was one of his biggest fears.

It wasn’t just about becoming his own person again, it was about trying to forget. Lovino couldn’t go more than a few hours without thinking of Antonio. The smallest things used to remind him of Antonio. A place they’d been together, things in his house, the photos…

There’d been so many photos of him and Antonio. Lovino’s house looked bare without them, but how was he supposed to keep them up when he couldn’t even look at them without the memories flooding back?

Even Gilbert, at first, had been a reminder. He was Antonio’s best friend, Lovino had always associated the albino with his former lover. It had been hard to separate the image he used to have of Gilbert from the one he had now, especially when the Prussian announced he was going to visit Antonio, or started telling an animated story about their escapades. Lovino had to accept they were going to stay friends, he just didn’t have to like it.

The hardest thing to deal with was the hardest to eliminate from his life. Green.

Anything green reminded Lovino of Antonio’s eyes. He couldn’t remember how long he’d spent staring into Antonio’s eyes-willingly or not, the Spaniard was persistent. The grass around his house reminded Lovino of green eyes. He’d barely painted with green since the break-up.

Now though, it wasn’t so painful. He could look at the grass, and he needed a new bottle of green paint. The colour didn’t depress him as much as it used to. Lovino knew it was mostly because of Gilbert.

 

When he was with Gilbert, the albino was all he thought about. Lovino could smile and laugh without having to worry about his reputation, or appearing weak. In two years, Gilbert had been presented with more than enough opportunity to point out Lovino’s flaws. If he’d wanted to, he would’ve done it by now.

Gilbert made him happy, more so than Lovino had felt in a very long time. His happiness didn’t necessarily depend on Gilbert, like it had with Antonio. It was more like Gilbert could remind Lovino of all the reasons he had to be happy, instead of the Prussian actually _being_ the reason. Not that he wasn’t, though.

And it was easy with him. Things with Antonio had always been…forced wasn’t the right word. Awkward wasn’t either, even if that’s what it felt like sometimes. Lovino had never really been able to talk to him, not like he could with Gilbert.

One thing was certain to Lovino though, even when nothing else was.

They needed each other. Gilbert numbed his pain, and Lovino treated Gilbert like he was still a nation. When Gilbert was around, Lovino found himself thinking less and less of Antonio, and more of the ex-nation that he honestly thought he might love.

They still only said it once, even if it had been almost two years.

Lovino knew they should have been able to say it. ‘I love you’. Just three words, or two, depending on the language. Either way, it shouldn’t have been so scary. To Lovino, it was and probably always would be. Admitting it again, out loud and not just in his head, terrified Lovino in a way he’d forgotten was possible. It meant admitting he was completely over Antonio, and not only that but that he was over him enough to want to devote himself to Gilbert. And he was, Lovino _knew_ he was, he just…couldn’t say it.

Because saying it meant he was opening himself up to the possibility of being hurt again. Lovino didn’t know if he could handle the pain again. And with Gilbert, he knew it would be a thousand times worse.

That wasn’t an issue for right now though. Now he could celebrate another small victory in getting over Antonio. Today he was over the colour green, and maybe soon he would be over Antonio completely.

Maybe now he could look at him and see something, anything, other than his eyes. Maybe soon, they could talk again.


	46. Pebbles

There were definitely worse ways to spend an afternoon.

It might have been a little cold to be walking along the Sacco river, but that hadn’t deterred Gilbert. And if Gilbert was going to go wandering off into the valley, Lovino was just going to have to follow them.

So they’d spent the better part of the day walking. Lovino had taken the opportunity to curl his arm around Gilbert’s, pressing himself against the Prussian’s side. He _knew_ he’d heard Gilbert chuckle when he’d done so, but Lovino couldn’t bring himself to actually be mad about it. Besides, he liked Gilbert’s laugh, even if it could get annoying sometimes.

The sun was sinking towards the mountains in the distance, not that either of them could bring themselves to care. The only reason Lovino could think of to hurry back was that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“I’m starving!” Gilbert announced, voicing Lovino’s thoughts.

“The sooner we get home, the sooner I can make dinner,” Lovino said. Most would have mistaken his tone for annoyed, but not Gilbert. He can hear the underlying affection, just the fact that Lovino didn’t call him ‘bastard’ speaks volumes to that.

Despite their claims of being hungry, the two nations stopped for a while at a bend in the river. It was getting colder, but neither one of them could bring themselves to complain. It was too peaceful for that. The river was calm, its surface barely shifting in the gentle breeze. The sky was greyed by a thick blanket of clouds, though it was still light out.

It had been far too long since Lovino had spent a day like this. They’d barely talked, simply walked and enjoyed each other’s company. Lovino had finally had a chance to just think, for the first time in weeks, and for once his thoughts didn’t just make him even more stressed. He had Gilbert beside him, Feliciano had actually been pulling his weight in running their country, and things were just generally going well.

As they stood silently, Gilbert reached down, grabbing a pebble from the shores of the river.

“What are you doing?” Lovino questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Watch,” Gilbert said, offering no further explanation.

Pulling his arm back, Gilbert bit his lip in concentration-which _might_ have been just the tiniest bit sexy-and threw the pebble. It bounced once, twice, three times on the surface of the river before finally sinking into the water. Gilbert fist-pumped in victory, reverting to his usual childishness.

“You’re so immature,” Lovino mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Someone’s just jealous of my awesomeness,” Gilbert said, placing his hands on his hips. Lovino would have loved to point out how he looked like a pouting young child.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lovino said, a choked-back laugh escaping despite his best efforts to contain it.

“You’re jealous of my awesome rock-skipping abilities, then,” Gilbert said, grabbing Lovino’s hand.

Before the Italian could protest, Gilbert dragged him down towards the ground-not as far for Lovino as it was for Gilbert-and picked up a stone.

“It has to be a flat stone,” Gilbert explained, showing Lovino the one he was holding. It was a small, grey stone that was flat and almost certainly circular.

“Remind we why we’re doing this,” Lovino said, trying his best to act exasperated.

“Because it’s fun!” Gilbert exclaimed, pulling Lovino back to his feet. If this kept up, Lovino might have to have a word with Gilbert about being manhandled.

“Fine,” Lovino said, the words coming out as more of a drawn-out sigh. “Show me how to throw the stupid rock.”

“It’s called ‘skipping’ the rock,” Gilbert corrected, lifting up Lovino’s hand. It was unusually gentle, the way he placed the pebble in his palm and closed Lovino’s fingers around it.

“And I’m supposed to care about this because?” Lovino asked, but he was smirking.

Gilbert ignored the question, turning Lovino to face the water. Lovino found his arm being pulled up behind him, and tried to ignore the way Gilbert pulled him close as he manipulated the Italian’s body.

“You can’t just lob it,” Gilbert explained, angling Lovino’s hand so the stone sat parallel to the lake’s surface. “You have to sort of spin it when you let it go, so it bounces off the water.”

Gilbert sighed, seemingly unsatisfied with his explanation. Lovino knew if he managed to actually skip the damn stone, Gilbert would be able to feel a little better about his teaching methods. It was most of the reason he actually tried, rather than just throwing it and hoping if for the best.

“It’s easier than it sounds,” Gilbert assured him, seeing Lovino’s confusion.

After watching Gilbert demonstrate what he dubbed the ‘proper technique for awesome stone skipping’, Lovino turned his attention back to the lake. Swinging his arm around, he released the pebble from his fingertips. It spun through the air, barely skimming the surface of the water as it bounced up. Lovino couldn’t help but imitate Gilbert’s earlier fist-pump, half to spite him. His stone had bounced _four_ times.

“See, told you it was easy!” Gilbert exclaimed, pulling Lovino into a hug that somehow became a kiss halfway through. Neither of them cared enough to work out the specifics of it.

“I think you’re just a good teacher,” Lovino said, nudging Gilbert. Because of the height difference, it ended up being more of a shoulder to the ribs, but the Prussian got the idea.

“Nah, you’ve got the gift!” Gilbert said dramatically, nearly smacking Lovino in the face as he waved his hands about.

“What, the gift of throwing stones?”

“ _Skipping_ stones!” Gilbert insisted,.

“Come on,” Lovino said, shaking his head. “It’s almost dinner time.”

As if on cue, Gilbert’s stomach growled lowly. For a split second there was silence, before both nations burst out laughing. Gilbert wrapped an arm around Lovino, and the Italian found himself relaxing against his side once more.

Lovino decided there were definitely worse ways to spend an afternoon, but none that were better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that more likely than not there won’t be an update tomorrow due to life being hectic. If I don’t manage to post tomorrow, I’ll upload two chapters on Saturday to make up for it.


	47. Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mathias=Denmark (As I understand, this is the most widely accepted fanon name for Denmark and it's also the one I prefer. Sorry if some people disagree or I've gotten my facts mixed up)

Lovino might actually have to break up with Gilbert out of embarrassment at this one.

Okay, he was laughing along with all the others, and who knew Kiku could throw such a good party? But that didn’t change the fact that this was the one time Lovino was actually glad nobody knew about the relationship between him and Gilbert, because this was probably the most embarrassing thing the Prussian had ever done. Well, embarrassing for him anyway.

But surely none of them would ever have agreed to _this_ unless they were already drunk-actually, that was a lie. Lovino knew for a fact that Alfred and Feliciano at least would have jumped at the chance. Which was probably why Alfred was right at the heart of it.

Seriously, why the hell did Kiku have ‘Just Dance’? Really, the question should have been why the usually quiet, respectable nation had decided to throw a party, but given the flashing of the game on the TV, it wasn’t the most important.

Actually, it made sense for Kiku to have the game, once Lovino’s brain managed to slowly work through the thought. He did always have to seem the latest technology, and the newest version of the game had just been released. Still, none of that changed the fact that the sight of Gilbert, Alfred and Mathias drunkenly dancing along to the latest pop songs was one of the most cringe-worthy things Lovino had ever seen. It was also one of the funniest.

None of them were actually doing the dance very well, the entire thing was just a mess of drunken stumbling with a lot of random arm waving included. All three of them had succeeded in smacking the others in the face quite a few times, and it was a wonder any of them were still on their feet.

Sure enough, the moment the song ended, all three of them fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs shaking with laughter. If he hadn’t been so unsteady on his feet, Lovino probably would’ve tried to help Gilbert up. As it was, Mathias, Gilbert and Alfred were struggling unsteadily to a standing position, largely relying on each other to bring themselves up.

“That was awesome!” Gilbert yelled, moments before all three nations crashed to the ground once more

Lovino couldn’t help but shake his head, wondering how much of this Gilbert would remember in the morning. At some point, Lukas stalked into the middle of the three stumbling nations, dragged Mathias to his feet and pulled the Dane into another room. With Alfred ad Gilbert left pushing each other over to try and get up, the American managed to fall, knocking himself unconscious as his head hit the floor. Finally unhampered by the others, Gilbert managed to rise to his feet, leaning unsteadily on the wall.

“Idiot,” Arthur muttered from his place next to Lovino, walking over to Alfred and pulling the younger nation up. Still unconscious, Alfred’s weight nearly succeeded in pushing Arthur over. The Brit barely managed to steady the both of them, before half-dragging, half-carrying the American over to a couch where he unceremoniously threw the blonde nation down.

The entertainment over, everyone went back to what they’d been doing before-mostly drinking or arguing, the only two things that ever really happened when you put a group of nations together. Lovino finally had a chance to go to Gilbert, which he fully intended to take, until he felt a hand on his arm.

“Hey, Lovi!”

There were very few people who called him that, and only one with long, tanned fingers that could curl around his wrist. Just the sight of them made Lovino’s heart stop and his brain freeze.

“Antonio,” Lovino said evenly. He turned, the grip on his arm disappearing.

Green eyes stared down at him, clouded with the haze of alcohol. A half-empty bottle was clutched in Antonio’s other hand. The Spaniard smiled brightly, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that this was the first conversation he’d had with Lovino in over a year.

“Do you want something?” Lovino asked, trying his best not to turn and run. He’d thought this would be easier. It had been two years…why was Lovino so bad with people dammit? And why the hell was Antonio still affecting him like this?

“I just wanted to-“ Antonio paused, regaining his balance as he swayed on his feet. “I wanted to talk to you!”

“About?” Lovino asked, remembering how much the Spaniard’s constant happiness had used to grate on him.

Antonio looked thoughtful for a moment, confusion clouding his features.

“I don’t remember!” Antonio exclaimed, throwing his arms out at the declaration.

The bottle in his fingers slipped, flying across the room to shatter against the wall. Lovino couldn’t help but slam his face into his palm, while Antonio looked to his own hand confusedly, as if he couldn’t work out how the bottle had escaped his grip.

By the time somebody came to yell at Antonio about the beer now travelling down the wall, and Kiku had moved to clean up the glass, Lovino had finally made his way over to Gilbert.

“What was that about?” Gilbert asked, motioning to where Antonio was now sprawled on the floor, laughing maniacally. The Prussian sounded a lot more sober than he’d been acting earlier.

“No idea.” Lovino shrugged. “He said he wanted to talk to me about something then _that_ happened.” He pointed to the newly-made beer stains on Kiku’s living room wall. Gilbert laughed.

“That’s what happens when Toni drinks,” he said, smirking at the countless memories popping into his head at the very thought.

“Nice dancing earlier,” Lovino said, smirking. They’d adopted their usual public position; both leaning on the wall, facing the party, angled slightly towards each other with their arms crossed over their chests.

“It was awesome, and you know it,” Gilbert said, pretending to be insulted. Both of them knew he wasn’t a very good actor.

“Whatever you say,” Lovino replied, shaking his head.

They’d done this too many times. It was unsettling how good they’d gotten at hiding their relationship, how easily they could act casual around the other nations.

“You all good?” Gilbert asked. He was still facing the party, but Lovino could see the Prussian’s eyes fixed on him.

“Yeah,” Lovino replied. It wasn’t like Gilbert could do anything about it anyway. “Just tired.”

Gilbert nodded, and Lovino felt bad for lying. Except it wasn’t a lie, not entirely. He _was_ tired, tired of hiding and lying and sneaking around. One day they might not have to, but for now it was still their reality. And as far as realities go, it really sucked.


	48. Humour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Genre-Humour

After Gilbert had found out about Lovino’s curl, he’d taken every opportunity to abuse it.

 _Especially_ in public places.

Gilbert thought it was funny, how much power one curl could have over a nation. It’d become almost a game between them, albeit one Lovino was an unwilling participant in. How much trouble could Lovino’s curl get him into? Gilbert for one definitely seemed intent on finding the answer to that question. Lovino had no choice but to hold on for the ride.

It hadn’t taken long for Gilbert to get very good at making Lovino fall apart He’d figured out the best ways to make Lovino blush and squirm, and learned exactly how far he could push Lovino in public. Gilbert had also figured out he could push Lovino a lot further in private, but that was a different matter entirely. The most important thing Gilbert had learned was which other nations knew about Lovino’s curl, those were the ones he had to avoid when he was playing his little games.

The first time had been at Lovino’s house. The Italian had been making dinner when Gilbert had come up behind him and decided to twist Lovino’s curl around his fingers. Lovino had nearly dropped the pot of pasta he’d been taking off the stove, tensing up at the unexpected stimulation. It led to a quite lot of yelling at Gilbert-the Prussian had been lucky Lovino hadn’t actually dropped the pasta, that probably would have started World War 3-and Lovino being very distracted the entire way through dinner. Although after the long night that followed, he couldn’t really complain.

The next time it happened, Gilbert had chosen a more public location. While staying in Berlin for a few days, Lovino had grudgingly agreed to let Gilbert take him for a night out. Walking down some main street, slowly making their way back to the house after a night on the town, Gilbert had decided it was the perfect opportunity to pinch Lovino’s curl, running its length between his fingers. Lovino had immediately gone bright red, cursing at Gilbert and trying very hard to stop the… _physical_ reaction he was having to Gilbert’s actions.

It had been inevitable that Gilbert would eventually escalate to teasing him in front of other nations. Lovino had thought he’d be safe around the others. They’d both been so careful to keep their relationship a secret, surely Gilbert wouldn’t risk that for the sake of his own amusement, right?

Nope, apparently Gilbert had no problem risking their little secret. Lovino had discovered this fact after a world meeting, potentially the most dangerous place for he and Gilbert to even talk to each other, let alone engage in these kinds of actions. Although Gilbert _had_ waited until Lovino was alone, so that was something, but they were still in plain view of all the others. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to the Italian and the Prussian, something Gilbert must have noticed because he’d barely laid eyes on Lovino before he was wrapping his fingers around the curl and tugging on it. Lovino bit back a moan, swatting Gilbert’s hand away and trying very hard not to react in the way he actually wanted to.

What Lovino wanted to do was grab Gilbert and slam their lips together, and quite possibly do a lot more things that were not suitable for in public. He had a very good idea of _exactly_ what he could have done to Gilbert, had they been alone.

Since he couldn’t do any of that, Lovino settled for acting like he was a lot more pissed off than he really was. Gilbert knew he didn’t mean it, and Lovino knew that even if he did Gilbert would still probably do it. That was just how it worked, and Lovino honestly had no problem with that.


	49. Song #4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Song-Man to Man by Gary Allen

If there was one thing Gilbert shouldn’t talk about with Antonio, it was Lovino. It was common sense really, Gilbert had a secret relationship with Lovino, he probably shouldn’t talk about him with Lovino’s ex. The second the Italian’s name came up, there were alarm bells ringing in Gilbert’s head. This was bad, and Gilbert knew it. Unfortunately, they were both too drunk to care. Maybe if Francis was there, he could’ve stopped things from going so far. He’d always been the best with people, after all, but he’d ditched them last minute in favour of annoying Arthur, so they were alone at Antonio’s house for what was supposed to be a Bad Touch Trio night. Gilbert had thought it would be fine, just a night in for him and Antonio, but he’d thought wrong. He forgot, the universe hated him.

”I wish he wasn’t so mad at me,” Antonio said glumly, his chin resting in his palm.

“Who?” Gilbert asked, alcohol making him genuinely forget who Antonio was talking about. Of course there was only one person it could be.

“Lovi,” Antonio said, sighing.

That was the moment Gilbert knew he should end the conversation. If he’d just been able to think of a way to do that without coming off as suspicious, everything would have been fine. But he couldn’t, so gilbert had no choice but to indulge Antonio. Plus, Gilbert kind of wanted to hear what he had to say.

“How do you know he’s still mad?” Gilbert asked, sipping his beer. Now that he was trying to listen to what Antonio was saying, he was actually watching how much he drank.

“I spoke to him, at…Kiku’s? Yeah, Kiku’s party,” Antonio said, smiling at his ability to remember the host of the latest get together.

“And?” Gilbert asked, leaning back on the couch.

“He barely said anything to me, it was like he didn’t even know me.” Antonio was brooding again, Gilbert had seen him doing this a lot in the past months. He was finally regretting his actions after breaking up with Lovino. Gilbert knew, he’d seen nations act like this one too many times in the past. A few times, he’d been the nation doing the regretting.

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Gilbert said, gaze flickering around the room. There’d used to be pictures, photos of Antonio and Lovino. He hadn’t noticed their disappearance until now.

“What’s there to talk about?” Antonio asked. That was the point when Gilbert first got the urge to punch him.

“Why did you two break up?” Gilbert asked, fighting to keep his cool.

“How should I know?” Antonio whined, burying his head in his hands.

 “Then there’s one thing you two could talk about,” Gilbert said, shrugging.

Antonio threw himself back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. For someone that acted so happy most of the time, he could be really depressing when he got in a mood. Gilbert was really wishing Francis was there, or that they’d just called the whole thing of when he’d pulled out.

“We were so good together!” Antonio said, running a hand through his hair.

“Were you really?” Gilbert asked, glancing over to his friend.

“Lovi was happy with me,” Antonio said defensively, pushing himself up to stare at Gilbert.

“Would you have known if he wasn’t?” Gilbert asked. “Would he have told you if he was upset?”

“But he was never upset!”

“Bullshit, Toni. You think in all the time you were together, he never got upset, he never needed someone?”

Antonio went quiet, looking down. Usually, winning an argument with him was a reason for Gilbert to smirk, but not now.

“If Lovino was upset, he wouldn’t tell you, would he? It’s not like him,” Gilbert said.

“How would you know?” Antonio asked, but he looked defeated. “When he was younger, he came running whenever anything was wrong.”

“He wasn’t who you thought he was, Toni. Maybe he used to be but…” Gilbert trailed off, shrugging. “You remember him how he used to be, but people change.”

Antonio looked at him strangely, and Gilbert was suddenly struck with the realisation that he’d probably said too much.

“Why do you think you know so much about him?” Antonio asked. “You barely know Lovi.”

Gilbert clenched his fists, reminding himself how bad it would seem if he punched his friend. That would definitely count as self-incrimination. Still, how did Antonio think that he had the right to call him ‘Lovi’? That right had disappeared when Lovino walked out on him. Antonio needed to stop holding onto things that were over.

“We’ve been spending time together,” Gilbert shrugged, trying to keep his tone even.

“So you think you know him now?” Antonio asked, suddenly serious. “You’ll never know Lovino like I did.”

Gilbert knew better than to be intimidated by him, the Spaniard was too drunk to be any good in a fight. Besides, the worst Antonio could do even sober was beat the crap out of him.

“You didn’t know him at all,” Gilbert said, voice rising. “He was miserable with you, and you were so obsessed with the nation he used to be that you couldn’t even see it.”

Antonio looked like he’d just been slapped. It was almost as satisfying as if Gilbert had actually hit him. Half of him almost regretted that he felt happy about hurting the man that was supposed to be his friend.

“You forced him to be something that he wasn’t, all for the sake of your own happiness,” Gilbert continued.

“So?” Antonio demanded, drawing him up to his full height. “If he didn’t like it, he would’ve said so!”

“No he wouldn’t!” Gilbert yelled, and suddenly Antonio was silent. “You and I both know Lovino has the lowest self-esteem you could imagine. He thought you were the only person who could ever love him, and he was willing to be unhappy instead of losing the only person outside of his family who’d ever shown any interest in him.”

Antonio looked ready to kill, but Gilbert knew he could take him if it really did come to a fistfight. He’d come this far, he wasn’t about to give up now.

“He’s happier now,” Gilbert said firmly. “If you keep at this, that’s not going to last long.”

Antonio sat back, anger dissipating. The tension in the room seemed to lessen, until it wasn’t tangible in the air. Gilbert withheld a sigh of relief, knowing he was already dangerously close to giving himself and Lovino away.

“Do you really think Lovino was miserable?” Antonio asked, his voice small.

“I have no idea how Lovino was before he met you,” Gilbert said honestly. “I just know that if he thought you loved him, he would’ve done a lot to keep himself from losing that.”

There was silence for a while, until Antonio broke it. Gilbert was surprised by how quiet his words were, how uncertain.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to see him happy without me,” Antonio said, gaze cast down.

Gilbert almost felt bad for the secret he was keeping. When he and Lovino had first gotten together, Antonio had been the one sleeping around and hurting Lovino. Now he was the one being hurt, and when he found out about Gilbert and Lovino, it was only going to get worse. This was going to blow up in their faces, one day very soon, and Gilbert knew they weren’t ready for that.


	50. Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter=Sealand (Official name, not fanon)

Why the _fuck_ had Lovino agreed?

Anything involving Arthur and his freaking magic couldn’t end well, so why he’d said yes when Arthur had asked him to help out with his magic was beyond Lovino. He hadn’t even been drinking this time!

“Lovino, might I ask a favour of you?”

The fact that Arthur was coming to Lovino for help should have been concerning in itself. The Brit didn’t have the best track record, especially when it came to his schemes and ideas. _Especially_ not when his magic or his cooking was involved.

“What do you need?” Lovino demanded, eyes narrowing. The last time someone had helped Arthur with something, they hadn’t left their house for a week. Even now, nobody knew exactly what had transpired between Arthur and France that one time.

“It’s just a small thing,” Arthur said slowly. “There’s this….well, it’s a spell,” he admitted, “and I can’t quite manage it on my own.”

“Aren’t there some other magic freaks you can ask?” Lovino responded. Aside from anything else, he wasn’t interested in being the subject of Arthur’s experimentation.

“Well, yes,” Arthur said, looking quite put out at being described as a ‘magic freak’. “But they won’t help me, they’re all busy.”

“Alfred?” Arthur shook his head.

“After I told him what I was trying to do, he said it wasn’t ‘hero-like’ and refused to have any part of it.”

Lovino sighed. He was running out of people to put into the firing line in his place. At this rate, Lovino would actually have to help Arthur. Hell knows how that would turn out.

“Exactly what are you trying to do anyway?” Lovino asked. The dark look Arthur got in his eyes at the question was terrifying.

“I’m going to create giant waves and send them straight to Sealand,” he declared, voice dripping with malevolence. “That’ll show that git who’s a real nation!”

Lovino considered it for a few seconds. He didn’t know what his part in this endeavour was, but watching Peter and Arthur getting into another argument would probably be more entertaining than whatever else he would’ve ended up doing that day. Besides, the spell wouldn’t even be aimed at Lovino. What could possibly go wrong?

On the surface, Arthur didn’t seem like the kind of person to have a secret basement, much less one filled with all manner of dark magic paraphernalia. Of course, being a fellow nation Lovino knew him a lot better than that. If you considered his magic, and the whole ‘imaginary friends’ thing, Arthur’s secret lair kind of made sense.

The single, bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling did little to illuminate the room, casting everything in dark shadows that only added to the creepy atmosphere.

“How does this work?” Lovino asked, still struggling to take in everything. The stairs creaked beneath his feet as he descended slowly, slightly concerned about what he’d gotten himself into.

“I’ve tried this spell a number of times,” Arthur said calmly. He began walking to a shelf by the stairs, pulling a large book from one shelf and all manner of strange items from the rest. “I don’t quite have enough power to pull it off, that’s why you’re here.”

“In English, maybe?” Lovino asked, still having no idea what he was supposed to be doing. Arthur sighed dramatically.

“You’re here to amplify my powers, sort of act as a second battery if you like,” Arthur explained matter-of-factly. Lovino gulped.

“Is this dangerous?” he asked sceptically, purposefully keeping his distance from the Brit. Lovino wasn’t sure if he could outrun Arthur if it came to that, but he would damn well try. The way Arthur was about his magic, Lovino didn’t doubt he could get forceful if someone tried to resist. Namely, Lovino.

“No, no, it’ll be fine,” Arthur dismissed, waving his free hand. The other was preoccupied with holding the growing number of things he needed for the magic.

Feeling no less confident in Arthur’s abilities, Lovino watched as he placed his supplies down and began drawing strange chalk symbols on the concrete ground. The white symbols eventually formed a circle, within which Arthur drew a number of different symbols in blue. Satisfied with his work, Arthur stood up, dusted off his hands and placed the chalk back on the shelves.

“Are we doing this or what?” Lovino asked, equally nervous and impatient.

“Almost ready,” Arthur replied absently.

He was preoccupied rifling through the supplies he’d grabbed from the shelves, opening jars and bottles and throwing their contents into a wooden bowl. After he’d gone through everything he’d grabbed, Arthur sprinkled the dark powder he’d created over the floor, scattering it across the chalk symbols he’d drawn earlier.

“Right, now I need you to stand here,” Arthur said, pointing to the centre of the circle.

“This is going to end badly,” Lovino said, not as much of a realisation as it was a statement. Still, he’d come this far now. Might as well see it through.

“Nonsense,” Arthur replied, stepping out of the circle to make way for Lovino.

The Brit picked up the large, leather-bound book he’d left resting on the ground. Lovino was suddenly struck by the fact that perhaps the reason nobody else had wanted to help Arthur was that they’d known it would end badly. He was about to voice these thoughts, when Arthur flipped open the book and started reading from its pages.

The second Arthur started chanting the strange words, Lovino found himself rooted in place. When he tried to speak, he found his mouth clamped shut, in fact he couldn’t even form the words in his throat. Lovino had not agreed to be subject to Arthur’s magic, this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

Things got weirder as Arthur kept chanting. The room started to get dark, despite the lightbulb still dimly illuminating everything. The shadows cast across the room started to shift, spiralling slowly around the room and gradually getting closer to Lovino.

Arthur finished his chanting, the shadows leaping from the floor to surround Lovino as dark clouds. There was a tremendous sound, like thunder crashing, and a burst of light that resembled a flash of lightning. If he hadn’t been frozen in place, Lovino would’ve whimpered at the sound. He hated thunder.

Lovino couldn’t see anything beside the black, smoke-like clouds, and shit he couldn’t really breathe either. He felt like the smoke was filling his lungs, making him desperate to cough except he still couldn’t move.

There was a loud, cackling laughter filling the room, and the last thing Lovino realised before he passed out was that it was Arthur, and he sounded incredibly demonic.

* * *

 

The first thing that became apparent was the throbbing pain in Lovino’s head. The next thing he realised was the throbbing pain everywhere else in his body.

“Oh thank goodness you’re not dead.” And that was distinctly Arthur’s voice. “I thought I’d killed you!”

“Could you do that now?” Lovino groaned, screwing his eyes shut against the pain in his body.

“I’m not dealing with a dead body on my hands again,” Arthur said simply.

“Again?” Lovino demanded, pain momentarily forgotten as he sat bolt upright. It made him feel as though his head was exploding, not to mention incredibly dizzy, but Lovino kept his gaze fixed on Arthur. Well, as much as he could when everything was so blurry.

“Don’t worry about that,” Arthur said dismissively, placing a hand on Lovino’s arm to help him stand.

Something felt…off. Lovino couldn’t quite place his finger on it, but there was something that just didn’t feel quite right.

“Did the spell work, at least?” Lovino asked, rubbing his head. Arthur went strangely quiet. “Well?”

“Sort of, you could say,” Arthur said cryptically.

“What does that mean?” Lovino demanded, getting worried. “Either it worked or it didn’t.”

“Well it worked,” Arthur started. “Peter’s certainly not happy about that.” He chuckled, pleased with himself.

“But?” Lovino prompted, feeling more and more like this had somehow backfired on him.

“Uh-“ Arthur stopped himself, quickly walking over to grab something from the bookshelf. When he returned, Lovino saw it was a small hand mirror. “Take a look for yourself.”

Hesitantly, Lovino took the mirror and held it up. What he saw nearly made him black out again.

“What the hell did you do you bastard!” he yelled, eyes wide as he stared at his reflection.

On top of Lovino’s head were two large cat ears. The fur covering them matched the colour of his hair almost perfectly, although they might have been a few shades lighter. It was hard to tell in the dark basement, and that really wasn’t the important part here because _Lovino had freaking cat ears_.

“When I think about it now, the spell we used is quite similar to another one,” Arthur admitted sheepishly. “The other spell is supposed to turn a person into a cat, temporarily of course.”

“I have cat ears! Do I look like a fucking cat to you?” Lovino yelled.

“The ears and tail could have fooled me,” Arthur said casually.

“Tail?” Lovino twisted around, and oh crap he had a cat tail. What the actual fuck. How the hell had he let himself get roped into this?

Lovino was stuck between slapping himself, since he was really, _really_ hoping this was a dream, and slapping Arthur. Either one was a viable option at this point, except Lovino knew that he was awake so hitting the British bastard seemed like the better option. Of course, if he did that, Arthur might do something to make this permanent, and Lovino would rather die than let that happen. So basically, no pissing off the Brit.

“You said the other spell was temporary?” he asked, breathing deeply in an attempt to control his anger.

“It’ll only last a day. Well, 48 hours at the most,” Arthur explained, taking the mirror from Lovino’s hand and replacing it on the shelf.

“Two day?” Lovino demanded. “Change me back, now dammit!”

“I can’t,” Arthur said, shrugging. “You’ll just have to live with it.”

That was the point at which Lovino decided it would be a good time to punch Arthur in the face.

* * *

 

Getting home without being seen actually turned out to be the easy part. Lovino managed to hide the ears under a beanie, and tuck the tail underneath a baggy jumper. It worked well enough to get him back to his house, where he was met with the real problem.

Gilbert was staying over for the week. The Prussian practically lived with Lovino, to be honest, which made the entire situation more difficult. Lovino had to get inside, lock himself in his room and hide for the next two days.

All of which he had to do without being seen by Gilbert, along with coming up with an excuse as to why he was refusing to be seen.

The first part was easy. Lovino managed to open the door quietly enough, and slip inside without being heard. The TV was on full blast in the living room, making it a lot easier for Lovino to remain undetected. Of course, he wasn’t lucky enough for that to last long.

Lovino couldn’t even remember how long he’d lived in this house. He _should_ have remembered the creaky floorboard three steps from the door. He should have, and he could’ve avoided it, which he shouldn’t have even needed to do since the TV was so loud.

But whatever Gilbert was watching decided to go silent, and it just so happened to do it the exact second Lovino stepped on that one damned floorboard.

“Lovi, is that you?” Gilbert yelled, turning the TV down enough to be heard.

Lovino cursed internally, hurrying to get to his room before Gilbert decided to come out and talk to him face-to-face.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he yelled back, knowing if he didn’t reply Gilbert would only get up to investigate the strange noise.

“I didn’t hear you come in, where’ve you been?” Gilbert asked, his voice sounding closer.

Lovino swore to himself, fumbling with the doorknob on his door. Gilbert could not see him like this, he’d never hear the end of it.

“I was with Arthur,” Lovino replied, preoccupied with trying to get into his room.

By the time Gilbert stepped into the hallway, Lovino was just slamming his door shut. The lock clicked, and Lovino breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe for now.

“Lovi, what’re you doing?” Gilbert asked, voice muffled by the door.

“Just go away,” Lovino demanded, stepping back towards the bed.

“Lovi, what’s wrong?” Gilbert said, unusually gently. “You don’t have to let me in, just talk to me.”

“No!” Lovino yelled. “Leave me alone!”

He was beginning to get afraid. If Gilbert didn’t stop, Lovino was going to have to start lying, or worse tell the truth. Neither of those were things he wanted to do, not to Gilbert. The Prussian was being strangely quiet, and Lovino was worried he was preparing to break the door down.

“Fine, if that’s what you want,” Gilbert conceded. “I’ll be out here if you want to talk to me.”

Retreating footsteps let Lovino know Gilbert had left. Breathing a sigh of relief, Lovino cautiously turned away from the door. He was still afraid Gilbert was just getting momentum to smash through the door. Slowly, he walked towards the mirror in the corner, biting his lip. Lovino wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to see the results of Arthur’s handiwork.

He pulled off the beanie and jumper, standing shirtless in front of the mirror. Normally Lovino would’ve felt as least some self-consciousness about that fact, but not now. He was too concerned with the brown tail and ears he now possessed. They felt alien, like they shouldn’t belong to his body, and he had no idea how he was supposed to control them. The ears kept twitching at every small sound and the tail was swishing of its own accord, which had not made it easy to hide on the way home.

Growling, Lovino stormed away from the mirror. Staring just made him more annoyed, and also kind of creeped him out. As an afterthought he drew the curtains, knowing Gilbert wasn’t one to just give up. He’d go to any lengths to try and find out what was going on with Lovino. That thought made the Italian’s heart beat a little faster, which he didn’t have time to focus on right now because he was too busy wishing this would just end.

With the room dark, Lovino crawled under the bed covers, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to hide from the world. He was just done with everything at this point, and sleeping would at least make the time until things could get back to normal go faster.

Except once again, Lovino’s plans just had to be ruined. At least this time it wasn’t just unfortunate timing, but a very determine Prussian that decided to interfere. The door opened, and Lovino gasped.

He sat up, the bed covers around him over his head and hiding the ears. Gilbert stood in the doorway, holding a lock pick. He at least had the decency to look at least somewhat guilty.

“Lovi, what’s going on?” he asked, leaving the lock pick on the dresser as he closed the door and walked over to the bed.

“I told you to leave me alone!” Lovino growled, pulling the covers tighter around himself.

“What happened, did someone do something to you?” Gilbert said, sitting on the edge of the bed. On instinct, Lovino pulled back. “Are you hurt?”

“Just leave it alone,” Lovino pleaded.

“Tell me what happened and I will!” Gilbert said.

Lovino sighed, looking down. Damn it, he couldn’t say no to Gilbert. How could he refuse the first person in a long time to actually care about him? He loosened his grip on the quilt, letting it fall away. He heard Gilbert gasp, which wasn’t what he’d expected.

Looking up, Lovino studied the Prussian’s expression. He’d thought Gilbert would be holding back laughter, and making some kind of joke out of it, but he wasn’t.

“How exactly did this happen?” he asked, eyes fixed on Lovino’s new pair of ears.

“Arthur’s magic backfired,” Lovino said, shrugging nervously.

Gilbert’s gaze drifted to the tail, curling around Lovino as the Italian was desperately hoping to just disappear. The Prussian shuffled closer, and Lovino fought the urge to back away. Gilbert wasn’t laughing, he was being unusually serious. Lovino could trust him, for now at least.

“Can I touch them?” Gilbert asked, and there went the whole trust thing.

“What?” Lovino shrieked. “No! What the hell kind of question is that?”

“But they’re so cute!” Gilbert said, doing his best impersonation of Feliciano’s puppy-dog eyes.

Lovino sighed, and nodded slowly. Gilbert made a strange, excited noise and scooted forward until he was looming over Lovino. That in itself was intimidating enough, but the pale hand reaching for the cat ears now sitting atop Lovino’s head was actually pretty terrifying too. The entire thing was just weird, and Lovino really hoped it could just be over soon enough.

Except then Gilbert was running his fingertips across the ears, gently scratching them, and it actually felt really nice in a weird way. It was pleasant, sort of like when his curl was touched except not as intense. Certainly a lot easier to handle.

And oh crap, did he just _purr?_

From the look of absolute glee on Gilbert’s face, Lovino was willing to bet that he had.

“You purred!” Gilbert said, smirking.

“No I didn’t!” Lovino said, crossing his arms.

“That was adorable,” Gilbert said, completely ignoring Lovino’s denial.

He tried to stay mad at Gilbert, he really did, but it was very hard when Gilbert was still softly petting his cat ears and he had to focus on not purring again. Lovino already looked like a cat, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let himself act like one.

Then Gilbert decided to kiss him, and Lovino wasn’t really in any state to resist, especially not when he felt so relaxed from Gilbert playing with his ears and tail.

When the Prussian’s hands disappeared from Lovino’s newfound appendages, the Italian was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was shirtless. A fact which Gilbert seemed intent on taking full advantage of.

* * *

 

The morning came far too quickly for Lovino’s liking, although that could’ve simply been because he hadn’t much of a chance to sleep by the time the sun rose. It took him a while to wake up fully, blinking sleep from his eyes and stretching slowly. Once he was awake, however, it didn’t take long at all for him to realise Gilbert was staring.

“What’re you looking at?” Lovino demanded, suddenly very aware of the fact that they were both naked.

“They’re gone,” Gilbert replied. It took Lovino a moment to work out what he was referring to.

The moment he did, Lovino’s hand flew to his head. Sure enough, the ears were gone. Another quick check confirmed that the tail too had disappeared overnight. Lovino relaxed, letting himself fall against Gilbert’s chest. The Prussian tensed up at the unexpected motion, quickly relaxing and wrapping his arms around Lovino.

“Last night was fun,” Gilbert said, and Lovino could just imagine the suggestive look he was giving.

“Shut up,” Lovino replied, glad that his blush was hidden against Gilbert’s chest.

“I’m going to miss kitty-Lovi,” Gilbert said, idly tracing patterns on Lovino’s spine.

After Lovino mumbling a few choice phrases, the two descended into silence. Amazingly, Gilbert was the first to get up-which may have had something to do with the fact that Lovino was exhausted from the magic related hell he’d been put through-and he galloped off to the kitchen after yelling something about breakfast.

Lovino made a mental note to ask around the nations that knew magic, although given Arthur’s history not him. Maybe one of them could give him something to recreate the side-effects of Arthur’s magic.

Gilbert had certainly seemed to enjoy himself last night, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of today, we are now officially halfway through our story! An extra long chapter today (over 3,000 words!) because I wanted to give everyone who's helped keep this story alive something special.


	51. Tattoo

There were probably worse things to wake up to, Lovino thought. None that immediately came to mind, but still. This couldn’t be at the top of the list, there had to be something that topped this. He just couldn’t think of one, that was all.

When he’d woken up, Lovino had thought the dull ache in his shoulder had been caused by…. _strenuous_ activities the previous night. Not that he remembered doing anything, but the alcohol could definitely be blamed for that. He certainly _felt_ like he’d had a good night, if the heaviness of his body was anything to go by.

It wasn’t until he got up to walk to the bathroom that Lovino saw it. As he went past the mirror he stopped suddenly, catching something odd in his reflection. That was when Lovino first noticed the bandage.

A small corner of white poking over his shoulder. It looked innocent enough, just a bandage. Now that Lovino had seen it he felt its presence too. Still, there was nothing about it to indicate that anything was seriously wrong. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time Lovino had done something stupid while he was drunk and gotten hurt.

Confused and somewhat apprehensive, he turned slowly. His back reflected on the silver surface as Lovino looked behind himself into the mirror.  A square, adhesive bandage, reasonably large, was stuck over his shoulder blade. It was odd, Lovino didn’t remember getting hurt the previous night. Something like that was usually pretty sobering. Usually.

Slowly, Lovino reached up to peel the bandage off. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting to find underneath. He was a nation, after all. Any injury he’d gotten should have healed by now, even if it had been bad enough to warrant medical attention at the time. It definitely shouldn’t have still hurt, either.

Maybe he’d expected a small scar, or even a scratch or scab if whatever he’d managed to do to himself had been bad enough. There could be some bruises, especially if he’d slept on it last night. It would explain the pain, after all. That was what Lovino had thought, anyway.

If there was one thing he wasn’t expecting, however, it was this. As the bandage peeled away, it revealed small, black, solid writing.

_Gilbert Beilschmidt_

What. The. Fuck. That almost looked like...shit. That was a tattoo. Lovino did _not_ remember agreeing to this. How the hell had this happened? Lovino didn’t drink that much last night…did he? Except he must have, because now he had Gilbert’s name tattooed on his shoulder. Fuck.

Besides silently freaking out-he didn’t want Gilbert walking in right now-Lovino was staring at the tattoo. The neat, cursive writing looked so strange on his skin. Although….it wasn’t necessarily in a bad way. It was more that it would take some getting used to, after all it was strange to suddenly have permanent black writing on his back, but it maybe it wasn’t that bad. It certainly didn’t _look_ bad anyway. It was just different.

Lovino took a shaky breath, his mind scrambling to form some kind of picture of last night. No matter how hard he tried though, he kept coming up empty. No memories of the previous night came back to him, especially none involving the events that led to him getting a tattoo.

Cautiously, Lovino gently prodded the writing with his fingertips. It was definitely sore, although not enough to make Lovino withdraw his fingers. Certainly not as sore as it would’ve been if he were a human. Hooray for the perks of being a nation.

Lovino supposed there were worse things to get tattooed on your shoulder. After all, Gilbert had the damn bird from the Prussian flag on his ankle, and they’d all seen the eagle Alfred had inked on his back. Especially since the American was so proud of his tattoo that he liked to rip his shirt off just to show it.

Compared to that, the small, neat letters on Lovino’s shoulder blades weren’t that bad.

At least it was somewhere he could hide it easily, since it would be pretty fucking suspicious if any of the other nations saw it. All it really meant was that Lovino would have to keep his shirt on around the other nations for a while, not that he was likely to be going shirtless in public any time soon. Unlike Alfred, he actually had standards.

Although, avoiding getting _too_ drunk for a while might be a good idea. He knew what happened when he got smashed, like that one time that nobody is allowed to talk about because Lovino _cannot_ believe that he danced on a table with Russia and France and broken the damn thing. Or of course there was the other time with the strip poker, which was just another reason Lovino should probably avoid drinking for a while.

And of course, so he didn’t decide he needed any more tattoos.

In all honesty, Gilbert probably couldn’t have picked a worse time to walk in. Well, maybe he could’ve, but that was beside the point.

“What is that?”

Lovino whirled around so fast he nearly fell. It probably would’ve added some humour to what was a really weird situation, but Lovino was still glad he managed to catch himself in time.

“What happened last night?” Lovino demanded, ignoring Gilbert’s question. The Prussian held up his hands defensively.

“I was just as drunk as you,” Gilbert said, taking a step back from Lovino. “I don’t remember anything either.”

Lovino crossed his arms and went back to staring at the tattoo in the mirror. He refused to admit he was sulking, even if that was exactly what he was doing.

He nearly jumped when Gilbert traced his fingers over the ink. Lovino relaxed after a moment, letting Gilbert stare at the tattoo.

“It’s not that bad,” Gilbert offered. “It actually looks good.”

“Why, because it’s your name?”

Gilbert shrugged, smirking. Lovino rolled his eyes, trying and failing to pretend he was actually mad at the Prussian.

The thought that there was tattoo removal if he needed it, if they ever didn’t work out, never occurred to Lovino. It didn’t need to. Lovino had a lot more faith in their relationship than that.

At least they’d spelt Gilbert’s name right.


	52. Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Genre-Angst

“Gilbert, wake up.”

The groaned reply Lovino received was hardly helpful. It came from somewhere within the ball of blankets and pillows amassed on the bed, all wrapped tightly around a certain albino.

“Gil, it’s 3 in the afternoon. Get up already.”

The next sound that came from the blankets was halfway between a whine and a whimper, both of which immediately alerted Lovino to the fact that something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Lovino asked. It took a few second of searching through Gilbert’s bedding fortress until he found the ex-nation.

Gilbert’s face was flushed and his skin glistened with sweat. His eyes were hooded and he was shaking slightly. Lovino placed a hand on his forehead, finding it much hotter than it should’ve been.

“You have a fever,” Lovino said, biting his lip.

As if on cue, Gilbert sneezed, burying himself back underneath the blankets with a groan. Lovino frowned. It was unusual for nations to get sick, but then again Gilbert wasn’t a nation anymore. He’d told Lovino that despite still being tougher than a mortal, he didn’t have the healing powers of the other nations anymore. Apparently, that meant he could get sick.

“Go back to sleep,” Lovino said. His bedside manner wasn’t exactly the best, but hey at least he was trying.

Since he was a nation, meaning he didn’t get sick unless something was going wrong with his land or his people, Lovino had no idea if he even had any kind of medicine in the house. Probably not, knowing his luck, but he still went to check anyway.

Miraculously, Lovino managed to dig some fever tablets out of the back of his medicine cabinet. On the way back to the bedroom, water and tablets in hand, the phone rang. Lovino seriously considered not answering it, he wasn’t in the mood and quite frankly he was tired as fuck. If there hadn’t been the small possibility that it was Feliciano, who used the landline despite Lovino’s constant attempts to get call his cell, Lovino would’ve let the phone ring out. With a heavy sigh, Lovino answered the phone.

“Who is it?” he demanded.

“Bounjour, Lovino.”

“What the fuck do you want, Francis?” Lovino asked. Talking to the annoying Frenchman was the last thing he wanted right not.

“Well that’s no way to greet someone,” Francis said, mock-hurt lacing his tone.

“You have three second before I hang up this phone,” Lovino threatened. There was a sigh from the other end of the call.

“Gilbert told me he was staying with you this week,” Francis said. “He’s not answering his phone.”

“Yeah, he’s here. You can’t talk to him, he’s asleep.”

“But it’s the middle of the day!” Francis said. “I need to talk to him.”

“He’s sick, I’m not waking him up,” Lovino replied firmly, getting annoyed with this phone call.

Francis went silent. Lovino hoped he was finally getting the message, and that he was about to hang up. No such luck.

“Lovino…nations can’t get sick.” Francis said quietly.

“Gilbert’s not a nation, remember?” Lovino replied, confused as to why Francis was reminding him of such a basic fact.

“But he used to be. If he’s sick, then…” Francis trailed off into silence.

“Then what?” Lovino demanded. He just wanted this call to end so he could go back to caring for Gilbert.

“Nations don’t get sick unless they’re dying, Lovino,” Francis said quickly.

And just like that, Lovino’s mind stopped. It hadn’t even occurred to him…but Gilbert couldn’t be dying. He hadn’t even said anything about fading away! They hadn’t even talked about what might happen…

Wouldn’t Gilbert have said something? Surely if he felt himself fading, if he’d thought he was _dying_ , Gilbert would’ve at least mentioned it.

“Lovino, are you okay?”

“I have to go,” Lovino said, realising the call was still going. He hung up quickly, ignoring the protests from the other side of the line.

He knew his hands were shaking. They always did, he couldn’t stop them. The only person who could…well, Gilbert was the one causing it this time. Lovino couldn’t bring himself to step back into the bedroom. He stood in the doorway, looking to where Gilbert was hidden beneath the quilt and sheets. It sounded like he was asleep, if the lack of noise was anything to go by.

Slowly, so as not to disturb Gilbert, Lovino forced himself into the bedroom. His steps were slow and hesitant, taking him to the edge of the bed. Gilbert had cocooned himself in the blankets, so that only his face was showing. Gently, Lovino traced his fingers down the Prussian’s cheek.

Gilbert felt _real_. He was solid and his skin was warm, how could someone so real be fading away? But it was the only thing that made sense. Nations didn’t get sick. Nations faded and died.

Lovino couldn’t stand there anymore, looking down at the man he knew he loved. It was too hard. Lovino felt guilty as he fled the room, standing with his back pressed to the closed door as he tried to calm his breathing.

He needed to talk to someone. Not Gilbert, Lovino couldn’t do that. There really was only one other person. Grabbing his phone, Lovino dialled the one person he could trust right now.

“Feli?”

“Lovi, what’s wrong?” Feliciano asked. Of course he’d be able to tell right away.

“It’s not important,” Lovino said. He knew he couldn’t tell his _fratello_ what was really going on.

“Okay…” Feliciano didn’t sound convinced, but it was forgotten a moment later. “I’m sorry, _fratellone_ , I can’t speak for very long. Ludwig is sick and I have to go take care of him.” That got Lovino’s attention.

“What’s wrong with the potato bastard?” he asked.

“He’s got a fever, it’s something to do with his economy,” Feliciano explained worriedly.

Those sounded weirdly like Gilbert’s symptoms. As in, they were exactly the same. Which probably meant that Gilbert wasn’t dying. He was still being affected by the land that used to be his.

“Whatever,” Lovino said, struggling to keep the relief out of his voice. “Go take care of your boyfriend.”

After a quick goodbye, Feliciano ended the call. Lovino fell back against the wall, sliding to the ground. Gilbert wasn’t going to die. Lovino’s world wasn’t ending. Everything was going to be okay.

Except Francis. He was going to get a swift kick next time Lovino saw him.

 


	53. Hurt/Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Genre-Hurt/Comfort

There was something very real about nearly losing Gilbert.

Technically, Lovino had only _thought_ he was going to lose Gilbert, but the point still stood. There was a possibility that Gilbert was going to fade away, and now it was more apparent than ever.

Lovino hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Even though Gilbert was fine now, he was better, all Lovino could see when he looked at him was Gilbert fading away to nothing. Even when the Prussian stood solid and alive before him, Lovino could only see him disappearing.

He’d been brooding for days now, unable to do much as talk to Gilbert without freaking out. It wasn’t easy to hold a conversation when you were having a panic attack. So Lovino had been keeping to himself, much to Gilbert’s confusion. It hadn’t taken the Prussian long to work out something was wrong, however figuring out what it was exactly was an entirely different matter.

It was about a week after the incident when Gilbert finally confronted him about it. Lovino was sulking, as usual, curled up on the couch. He knew Gilbert was standing in the doorway, he had been for quite some time, but Lovino refused to acknowledge him. That would mean having to have a conversation that he had been doing a great job so far of avoiding.

“Lovi…we do have to talk at some point, you know,” he finally said, sighing.

Lovino tried not to flinch when he sat next to him on the couch. Gilbert noticed anyway, looking slightly hurt. Still, he kept his distance, and if he’d been able to Lovino would’ve thanked him.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Lovino shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about this, not with Gilbert. It was childish, and the ex-nation would only think he was stupid.

“Lovi, please?” Gilbert begged. “What’s wrong?”

At the feeling of Gilbert’s arm around him, Lovino couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. He leaned into the Prussian’s side, letting his head fall forward and eyes focus on the floor. Gilbert stayed silent, waiting.

“When you were sick, I thought…” Lovino trailed off, but Gilbert got the message. He pulled Lovino into his lap without hesitation, ignoring the small noise of surprise the Italian let out as Gilbert wrapped his arms around him.

“You thought I was dying,” Gilbert said, smiling sadly with understanding. Lovino nodded. “I’m not dying, Lovi. I swear.”

Lovino wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that it could always be like this, with the two of them together. But Gilbert wasn’t a nation…how long could he really last? Gilbert sensed his distress, forcing Lovino to look at him.

“How about this,” Gilbert started, “if I feel like I’m dying, or fading away, I’ll tell you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lovino nodded. He wanted to know, if it ever happen, when Gilbert was going. Maybe that would make it easier.

They sat there together for a while, Lovino sitting in Gilbert’s lap, the two of them silent. It didn’t last long, neither of them were very good at being quiet, but it was nice.

“You’re really bad at telling people how you feel, aren’t you?” Gilbert asked after a while, breaking the silence.

“Wow, when’d you work that one out?” Lovino asked sarcastically.

“I’m serious,” Gilbert said, although he had a difficult time acting like it.

“Fine,” Lovino admitted, “I’m not. So?”

“Nothing, just stating facts,” Gilbert said, shrugging.

Lovino sighed, resting his head on Gilbert’s shoulder. He was still terrified, of the future, of Gilbert’s future, but he wasn’t alone in that anymore. Gilbert was here, and for now at least, they were okay.


	54. Camera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s not technically canon that Gilbert was HRE’s older brother, but it’s my headcanon and I’m sticking with it.

Gilbert really liked to take pictures.

Lovino had noticed it ages ago, but he’d never said anything. It wasn’t really a problem, even if it could get annoying sometimes, so he’d just let it be. Lately he’d gotten curious about it. If Gilbert wasn’t peering through his phone, getting the best shots he could, he was looking through his old photos. Usually he was laughing, or he’d start telling Lovino the stories behind some of them.

A few times, though, Lovino had found him silently looking at his old photographs. They weren’t the ones on his phone, the all looked as though they’d been taken years ago. A lifetime ago. Those were the time Lovino left him.

He had no right to intrude on Gilbert’s memories.

One time though, Gilbert had looked up as he’d entered the room. Lovino had only been going into the bedroom to find his phone, and there was Gilbert, an old photo album in his lap, and suddenly their eyes were locked. He couldn’t just walk out after that.

“Hey,” Lovino said uncertainly.

“Hey,” Gilbert said, smiling slightly. He looked sad, and Lovino didn’t know why he hated that so much.

“So…what’re you doing?” Lovino asked, somewhat awkwardly. Social situations were not his strong point, even when Gilbert was involved.

“Just looking at old photos,” Gilbert shrugged. “Nothing important.”

Hesitantly, Lovino walked towards the bed. Gilbert shuffled over a little, making room for him. Lovino leant against his side, relaxing slightly when he felt the familiar weight of Gilbert’s arm around him. He looked down to the photo album, still sitting open in Gilbert’s lap. His eyes were drawn to one picture in particular, one of Gilbert and a small boy. He looked oddly familiar, although Lovino couldn’t figure out why.

“Who’s that?” Lovino asked, pointing to the boy in the photo. Gilbert chuckled.

“That’s West,” Gilbert said, still laughing slightly. “He looked different, huh?”

Lovino narrowed his eyes, staring at the small blonde boy in the photo. It did kind of look like Ludwig…although he reminded Lovino of someone else, someone he couldn’t quite remember. Another small, blonde boy.

“You have a lot of old pictures,” Lovino remarked. Gilbert nodded, sighing quietly.

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed.

“Why?” The question was out before Lovino could stop it. Gilbert looked a little surprised, but he quickly recovered.

“Do you remember the Holy Roman Empire?” he asked.

That was who young Ludwig reminded Lovino of! It seemed kind of obvious now, and actually kind of explained a lot. No wonder Lovino hated Feliciano’s obsession with the German, he was too much like the first boy who’d broken his _fratello’s_ heart.

“Yeah,” Lovino said. There was a lot more he could’ve said on the subject, but now wasn’t the time.

“He was my _bruder_ ,” Gilbert said quietly. “When he died, I hardly had anything to remember him by. He was just gone, and I could never see him again.”

There was silence for a while. Gilbert was thinking, maybe searching for the right words, and Lovino didn’t know how to fill the empty space left by the quiet. It didn’t last forever, but it certainly felt like those moments stretches out into an eternity.

“I take pictures now, so when people leave me I’ll have something to remember them by.”

Lovino finally understood something then. Gilbert said _when_ , not _if_. He believed that every single person was going to abandon him, and he’d accepted it as fact. Lovino still didn’t have the words to speak, not the way Gilbert needed him too, so instead he settled for shuffling closer to Gilbert, trying to tell the Prussian that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I-I’m not leaving,” Lovino said. It came out quiet and stuttered, but he’d said it.

Gilbert seemed to physically relax beside him, tension leaving the taller man’s frame. Lovino swallowed thickly, still trying to collect himself after forcing out those words. Lovino refused to leave Gilbert. He’d been the one left behind before, and nobody deserved that.

Especially not the person he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is a day late. I’ve been kinda sick and I fell asleep at my laptop (again) when I tried to write it. I’m still recovering, but I’ll be writing two chapters tomorrow to make up for the lost one.


	55. Music

The piano was an instrument most often associated with Austria. There’d been a few others over the years, classical music went in and out of style everywhere, but Roderich would always be remembered as the bespectacled nation who played the piano.

There were some nations you couldn’t picture playing the piano. Gilbert was one of them. He was too discordant, too lively, for something as slow and gentle as piano. So seeing him sitting on a piano stool, fingers poised over the keys, was almost impossible to comprehend.

As to why there was a piano in Ludwig’s house, Lovino couldn’t be sure, but there it was, and there Gilbert was. At least now Lovino knew what’d woken him. He’d thought he was going crazy when he could’ve sworn he heard the last echoes of a piano as he was pulled from sleep. Lovino never slept well here. He only ever agreed to stay there because Feliciano begged, which made it difficult for him to share a bed with Gilbert since Feli was probably the one person they couldn’t tell about their relationship. Everyone knew what he was like with secrets.

Lovino had seen the piano, a few times actually. It was in the front room, the one they never seemed to use unless it was a holiday or some kind of occasion. It wasn’t a grand piano, like the one Roderich was fond of boasting about. It was smaller, but of course if it was going to be in Ludwig’s house it would have to be. The German favoured function over appearance, one of the many thing Lovino would fault him for if he was given the chance.

He’d never really thought much about it. Out of the two German brothers, Lovino would’ve been willing to bet the piano belonged to Ludwig. He was beginning to rethink that now, since he’d found Gilbert sitting there, about to play.

“That’s yours?” he asked, not bothering with a ‘good morning’.

“Scheiße!” Gilbert yelled, fingers slamming down onto the keys. He turned to glare at Lovino, more surprised than angry. “What are you doing there?”

“I figured I’d come find out what woke me,” Lovino said, smirking when Gilbert's expression turned guilty.

“Sorry,” he said, glancing between Lovino and the piano.

“I didn’t know you could play,” Lovino said, finally venturing into the room.

They had the house to themselves, he didn’t have to be worried about being careful for a while. Gilbert shrugged, looking  shy . It was weird, not an expression Lovino was used to seeing on the Prussian.

“Roderich taught me,” he explained. “I’m not as good as him, obviously, but I can read the notes.”

Gilbert was facing the piano again, eyes focused on the sheet music spread out before him. Lovino stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms loosely around a pale neck.

“Play something for me,” Lovino said. It came out a lot gentler than he’d intended. He was getting less and less scared by the way he acted around of Gilbert.

Red eyes were turned to the notes on the page, long, slender fingers arranging themselves above the keys. Lovino looked to the sheets too, hearing the notes in his head. Gilbert wasn’t the only one who could read music.

The song was undoubtedly classical, and it was hard for Lovino to associate the sounds being created with the Prussian creating them. Still, it was beautiful. Gilbert really could play, even if he didn’t think so. The notes flowed into each other smoothly, each one played perfectly in time.

When the song ended, the following silence seemed empty. Lovino wanted to fill it, with words or just with something, but he couldn’t find anything right to say.

“I know I’m not the best,” Gilbert said, shrugging his shoulders again. He seemed almost... nervous .

“That was really good,” Lovino said. If there was thing he did know he had to say, it was to tell Gilbert that his playing was good. Very good.

“It was alright,” Gilbert said, pointedly staring at the music still sitting before him.

“No,” Lovino said, turning Gilbert’s head to kiss him gently. “Good.”

Gilbert nodded slowly, finally meeting Lovino’s gaze. He smiled, visibly relaxing at the Italian’s assurance.

“Play me something else?” Lovino asked hopefully.

Gilbert was happy to oblige him.


	56. Flip-Flops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cody=New Zealand (An unofficial, fanon name I've seen in some fanfiction)

This was why you shouldn’t put a large group of nations together. They always got into stupid arguments over stupid things, and it was just _stupid!_

At least nobody was getting hurt this time. How the hell had this even started? Oh right, language barriers.

The World Meeting was being held in America, and everyone was there. Since it was summer, Alfred had declared they were all going to the beach. Simple enough, shouldn’t have started something this big, yet somehow it did. Every. Single. Time.

“This meeting is officially over,” Ludwig declared, having taken charge once more in an attempt to actually get something done.

“Dude, finally!” Alfred yelled, standing on his chair to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s hit the beach!”

There was a general murmur of agreement, everyone was eager to unwind after a long few days of generally pointless discussion. After a few seconds, it was interrupted by one voice rising above the others.

“Damn it!” Jett, of all people, yelled as he slammed a fist into his palm. “I forgot my thongs.”

The meeting hall descended into silence pretty quickly, most nations staring at the Australian. A few looked disgusted, and others still looked confused. Jett sighed.

“I mean my flip-flops,” he said, face deadpan. There were a few sighs, some noises of understanding, and most of the nations seemed content to return to their conversations. Not Alfred, apparently.

“Why can’t you just say that in the first place?” he yelled across the hall, still standing on his chair. Not one to be outdone, Jett climbed onto his own chair, placing one booted foot on the table.

“Because that’s not what they’re called!” he declared, stamping his foot for good measure. “They’re thongs, not flip-flops!”

“You’re both wrong,” Cody added quietly, immediately going silent when all eyes fell on him. He didn’t bother climbing onto a chair to continue, just wanting the attention to be shifted away from him. “I was just going to say they’re called jandals…”

“Okay, that’s even worse than his,” Alfred decided, motioning to Jett.

“That’s not even a word,” Jett agreed.

“Would you boys stop arguing,” Arthur demanded, crossing his arms and looking every bit the grumpy old man they treated him as. “This is ridiculous, and I’m sure we all want to leave.”

The three nations in question took a moment to look around the hall, where everyone else was still fixed in place watching their argument. The silence lasted only a few moments, before they were back to their bickering.

“No one listens to me!” Arthur said, throwing his arms up.

“Just tell them I’m right!” Alfred demanded. Arthur snorted.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in those ridiculous shoes. I happen to be a gentleman, thank you very much,” he said indignantly.

Alfred crossed his arms, pouting like a child, Jett looked ready for a brawl and Cody was just trying to make himself as small as possible. In the end, it was Lovino who intervened. That was perhaps the strangest part of the entire situation.

“You all speak the same language! How can you not agree on this?” Lovino finally yelled. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at him.

“For one,” Arthur began, pointing a finger accusingly at Alfred. “That git butchers my language. I speak English, unlike some people, and I actually have a grasp of grammar.”

“Dude, not cool!” Alfred yelled, earlier quarrel forgotten in favour of defending himself against Arthur.

“Oh shut up, it’s not like we can understand what you’re talking about anyway,” Arthur replied.

Alfred drew a deep breath, preparing himself to deliver an amazing comeback. At that exact moment, his chair broke. There were a few sniggers around the room, most noticeably from Gilbert. Jett stepped across the table to help him up, extending a hand to the American.

“You right, mate?” he asked, pulling Alfred back to his feet.

“Let’s just go to the beach…” Alfred sounded defeated. Falling off a chair can do that to a person.

 


	57. Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Genre-Mystery

When Lovino had left the kitchen, there had _definitely_ been a plate of cookies on the counter. He knew this, because he’d finished baking them not half an hour ago. As soon as the oven timer had gone off, he’d taken the tray out and slid the warm sugar cookies onto a plate, leaving it on the counter to return to in a few minutes.

So where the hell were they?

Even though Lovino _knew_ they’d been on the counter, he checked the fridge and the dining room table for good measure. In both locations he came up empty-handed. It wasn’t just the cookies that were gone, but the plate too, which only served to make Lovino feel as if he might be going insane. Great.

Given that Lovino hadn’t so much as touched the cookies, there was really only one explanation he could come up with as to where they’d gone.

“Gilbert!” he yelled, listening for a response. When it came, it was from the direction of the living room.

“What?” the Prussian called back loudly.

Lovino quickly walked to the living room, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“Do you know what happened to my cookies?” he asked. It was only after he’d said it that Lovino realised how childish it sounded.

“You have cookies?” Gilbert asked, eyes lighting up with barely-concealed interest.

“Not anymore,” Lovino replied, raising an eyebrow. “Any idea where they might have gone.”

Realising he was the prime suspect, Gilbert immediately got defensive.

“Don’t look at me,” he said, holding his hands up. “I didn’t even know you were baking!”

Lovino frowned, staring at Gilbert for a moment before deciding he was probably telling the truth. If the ex-nation had eaten the cookies, he was more likely to brag about it than try and hide the fact. So, Lovino was back to square one.

“You know what this means?” Gilbert asked, practically leaping off the couch. There was excitement written across his face.

“What?” Lovino asked, more interested in trying to find his lost baked goods than Gilbert’s antics right now.

“We have a mystery to solve!” Gilbert declared, taking quick strides towards the kitchen.

Lovino hurried to keep up with him, finding himself once more leaning in a doorframe. Gilbert inspected the scene of the ‘crime’, stalking around the kitchen.

“I left them over there,” Lovino said, nodding towards the counter by the stove.

Gilbert leaned down to the benchtop, peering intensely at it as if that might make the cookies reappear. No such luck.

“Well I can see crumbs, so they were definitely here,” Gilbert declared after a few seconds of sleuthing.

“I could’ve told you that, and we wouldn’t have wasted as much time,” Lovino said, raising an eyebrow.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Gilbert asked, mouth twitching up into a lopsided smirk.

Lovino shook his head, unable to keep himself from mirroring the Prussian’s expression. Despite his annoyance at the random disappearance of the cookies he’d taken the time to make, playing detective with Gilbert was at least entertaining.

“If you’re such a great detective, where are the cookies then?” Lovino asked.

“They are…somewhere that isn’t here!” Gilbert declared, as proudly as if he’d just made a ground-breaking discovery.

“Well done, genius,” Lovino said, rolling his eyes.

Gilbert may not be taking this seriously, but Lovino did actually want to know what had become of the cookies. They’d smelt really good, and he’d been looking forward to eating one or two. Or the entire plate.

“Do you hear that?” Gilbert asked, for once with a serious expression on his face as he strained his ears.

“Hear what?” Lovino asked.

Gilbert made a shushing motion. Lovino complied, albeit it grumpily, closing his mouth and listening. There was definitely a strange noise, muffled from behind the doors of the pantry.

“What is that?” Lovino asked, staring towards the pantry doors with trepidation.

“No idea,” Gilbert said, shrugging. “Let’s find out.”

Before Lovino had a chance to decide whether or not he wanted to stop him, Gilbert had flung the pantry doors open. At first Lovino saw nothing, beyond shelves of food. Then he looked down.

Sitting on the floor of the pantry were Gilbird and Linosa. And they had a half-eaten plate of sugar cookies between them. Gilbird immediately hid behind the feline, somehow managing to look guilty. Lovino hadn’t even known birds _could_ look guilty. Linosa, meanwhile, curled herself around the plate protectively, hissing when Gilbert tried to reach down and grab it.

“I think we’ve found our thieves,” Gilbert announced, looking very proud of himself.

“What gave it away?” Lovino asked dryly. He managed to successfully extricate a cookie from within Linosa’s grasp, though the look the cat gave him made the Italian more than a little wary.

“Come on, that’s not fair! How come she let you take one?” Gilbert demanded, pouting. Lovino broke the cookie in half, handing the larger piece to the Prussian.

“She’s my cat, she likes me better.”

“I can’t believe we only get one cookie,” Gilbert grumbled, munching on his half. “One!”

Lovino sighed, stepping carefully over Linosa to get into the pantry.

“If it’s that important, I’ll make another batch.”

At least that managed to silence Gilbert’s whining.


	58. Journal

It was wrong. Lovino _knew_ it was wrong, but that still didn’t seem to be stopping him.

Gilbert hadn’t meant for him to see this. Lovino knew, because Gilbert’s suitcase had been zipped up when he left the house in search of food. The only reason Lovino was even looking in it was because Gilbert had promised to write down the recipe for his black forest cake, and he still hadn’t handed the damn thing over.

The other reason Lovino knew he wasn’t supposed to be seeing this was because it had been pushed right to the bottom of the suitcase, wrapped in a jumper and was labelled ‘TOP SECRET’ in bold, red letters just for good measure.

It was a large, black, leather-bound notebook. Lovino felt its weight as he picked it up, nearly dropping it as he looked over his shoulder, afraid that Gilbert might storm back into the room at any second.

He knew he shouldn’t. It was Gilbert’s diary for crying out loud! Well, Lovino couldn’t imagine Gilbert would admit to something as emasculating as keeping a diary. Maybe ‘journal’ was a better word. Whatever the case, it didn’t change the fact that Lovino was holding the damn thing and his curiosity was about to get the best of him if he didn’t do something about it.

In the end, he didn’t.

The writing in the first pages of the journal was faded and barely legible. Gilbert’s messy, scrawled handwriting certainly didn’t help. The earlier dates showed regular entries. Some spanned thousands of words, others were two or three to a page. Words were pushed in everywhere, between the lines and in the spaces between entries. Lovino had no idea Gilbert wrote so much.

The first pages of the journal were from years back, before Lovino had ever known Gilbert as anything more than Antonio’s friend. And he tried not to read them, he really did. Lovino just…couldn’t help himself.

_Today was Awesome (like me)! I hung out with Toni and Francis, and we got soooo drunk that we got kicked out of the bar. Francis was being a flirt, like always, and ended up spending the night in a jail cell. The headache I’ve got now is worth it for the sight of Francis screaming at his own policeman that they were all part of him. At least he was too drunk for them to take him seriously, it would have ruined the night if he’d gone and given away the whole secret of nations._

Lovino couldn’t help but laugh at that entry. He remembered hearing about this from Antonio, way back when he was a kid. Given the number of drunken antics those three got in on a near daily basis, he hadn’t thought about this particular one in years.

He knew he should stop there. Gilbert could walk in at any second and discover Lovino reading his journal. But Lovino really wanted to read _just one more_ , and besides Gilbert had only been gone about 20 minutes. He would probably be gone for a long while yet, knowing the Prussian’s sense of direction when he was in Italy. One more couldn’t hurt….just one. Probably.

_I met up with Francis today, which was of course awesome. It would’ve been even more awesome if Toni was there, but he was taking care of his cute little Italy._

At first, Lovino was certain Gilbert was talking about Feliciano, on one of the brief occasions he’d stayed with Antonio. Slightly annoyed he continued reading anyway. Stupid, morbid curiosity always won out over common sense.

_I swear, Antonio never talks about anything other than Lovino. It’s always ‘Lovi this’ and ‘Lovi that’. It’s a wonder he ever finds the time to come out drinking with us anymore._

Gilbert had been talking about him the whole time. Lovino wondered if Gilbert has said he was cute simply because Antonio probably always described him that way, or because he’d been thinking it. But this entry was years old, Lovino hadn’t even properly met Gilbert back then. It must’ve just been because of Antonio. That had to be it.

Technically, that’d been one more but…Gilbert wasn’t home yet. It only took a couple minutes to read each entry. Lovino could afford to risk reading a couple more. He skipped ahead a bit, through a couple wars and a section he knew must’ve been filled with dark memories and even darker thoughts. The dissolution of Prussia.

 _Antonio invited me over yesterday. It was kind of good timing, I’ve been feeling a bit unawesome lately (Not that anyone needs to know that, I have a reputation to uphold!). I would’ve written last night but I was totally smashed. I barely remember any of it, although I_ think _it was good. Little Lovi was there though, he’s so cute! He got pretty pissed when Toni was getting handsy with him, but it only made him look more adorable. I kinda understand why Antonio’s so obsessed with him now._

Well. Gilbert had…okay, so Gilbert’s feelings for Lovino weren’t exactly something new. That was definitely news. Exactly how long had he been harbouring feelings for Lovino? And how long had he kept silent simply because he’d thought Lovino was happy with Antonio? How long could they have been together, if Lovino had just manned up and left Antonio sooner?

It wasn’t something Lovino really wanted to think about. Really, any part of his past that involved Antonio, especially their breakup. It was an experience that could’ve gone a lot better, although that couldn’t be blamed on Antonio. Lovino had been the one to screw that up, especially since he’d dragged it on for so long.

The journal still open before Lovino seemed like a good way to for him distract himself. Just for a little longer. He skipped further even forward, towards more recent times. Lovino would’ve denied that he was looking for an entry on himself, even as it became more and more obvious to him. Finally he saw his name, and stopped scanning the pages to properly read the words on the page.

_I’m back in Berlin, so I’ve got plenty of time to write all about my awesome time with Lovi!_

Lovino wondered whether Gilbert was physically capable of writing a journal entry without using the word ‘awesome’. From what he’d read, it didn’t seem like it.

 _It’s_ not _cool that I had to leave him. If it was up to me, I’d never leave (even though West would probably miss me, like he could live without my awesomeness there!). But I did have a great time with Lovino. We were watching this movie right after I got there, I don’t even remember what it was called but there was this one bit where I was looking over at Lovino and he laughed, and it was so adorable! It was so hard to focus on the movie after that._

And now Lovino was blushing. Great. If Gilbert came back, it was going to be much harder to deny that he’d been reading the journal.

_I wonder if Lovino knows how cute he is when he laughs. He does this really adorable thing where he scrunches his nose up, and it makes me wish he laughed more because it’s a totally awesome sound._

Lovino had thought he’d been blushing _before_ that comment. The rest of the entry was more of the same, and by the end Lovino’s cheeks were bright red.

There really wasn’t time to read any more. Gilbert could be home any minute, and Lovino still had to re-hide the journal. It could be his little secret for now.

Lovino was worried that curiosity would bring him back, and get him caught, but he realised something. Lovino knew he didn’t have to read anything more. Anything else in here, he already knew. Gilbert may have written these things in secret, but there were no secrets between them. There was nothing more for him in this book.


	59. Quote #5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Quote-Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.

There wasn’t anything particularly special about that day. In fact, it was decidedly average. The sky wasn’t blue, nor was it grey with clouds. It was a strange, empty white, a blank canvas. Lovino didn’t know why, but that was what he remembered most. The sky.

It started like a normal day. Well, as normal a day as one could have when Gilbert was involved. Lovino woke up beside his Prussian, which immediately improved his mood. Lovino was _not_ a morning person, unless it was a morning with Gilbert.

There was a meeting in Berlin, which for some reason Lovino had to go to even though Feliciano was already there. Almost all of the European nations would be there. Even Gilbert would manage to get into this one, since it was happening in the closest thing he had to his own country. Regardless, there was a meeting that afternoon, and that meant getting up early. There went Lovino’s good mood.

In the end they nearly missed their flight, owing entirely to Gilbert’s determination to have his way with Lovino in the shower. Which Lovino hadn’t minded at the time, but then he had to break the speed limit all the way to Rome just to make their flight. Curse his weak resolve.

So it was an average day, but still a good one. At least it was for now, until they got to the meeting and they would have to hide their relationship once more. That alone was capable of turning a good day into a bad day. Still, there was nothing Lovino could realistically do about that, so he’d just have to grin and bear it. Well, not grin, but the point still stood.

They entered the meeting the way they usually did: five minutes apart, never meeting each other’s eyes as they took their seats. It wasn’t perfect, and Lovino hated being reminded every single time that what they had was a secret, but it worked.

As far as meetings went, it went about as well as could be expected. No fights turned physical, in fact there were barely any fights besides petty arguments, and they reached the break when they were supposed to. It was still bring of course, the fact that they couldn’t sit next to each other only making the entire thing more unbearable.

By the time they had a break in the meeting, Lovino was about ready to punch someone. It couldn’t be this difficult, it just couldn’t. How were they, as ancient, immortal beings, so bad at coming to decisions?

Which was probably why, when Lovino heard his name being called by someone other than Gilbert, he wasn’t in the greatest of moods. The owner of the voice really didn’t help at all with that.

“Lovino?” It was Antonio, and he sounded nervous. Lovino couldn’t care less.

“What do you want, Antonio?” he asked, sighing as he turned to face the Spaniard. There really wasn’t a worse time for this.

“I just wanted to say hi,” Antonio said sheepishly. Lovino almost felt bad for snapping at him. _Almost_.

“Hi,” Lovino said briskly. “Anything else?” All he really wanted was to go see Gilbert, they’d agreed to sneak off during the break.

“Well, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to come and get some lunch with me?” Antonio asked hopefully.

Lovino’s entire brain stopped for a few seconds. The implications of what Antonio was asking of him were racing through his head, and it was just too much. When his mind started working again, Lovino’s first thought was to be pissed off. Which incidentally is what he told Antonio to do.

“Piss off,” Lovino said, turning away before he had a chance to see the Spaniard’s reaction. He didn’t want to. He needed to get away.

He needed Gilbert.

Lovino found him down the corridor from the meeting hall, where they’d agreed to meet up after everyone else was gone. There were still quite a few other nations around, but quite honestly Lovino didn’t care anymore if they saw him with Gilbert. He was too mad, too _upset_ , to care.

“Lovi?” Gilbert said, immediately noticing the Italian’s mood. “What’s wrong, what happened?”

Lovino tried to get the words out, he really did. He tried to focus on Gilbert’s hands on his arms, and Gilbert’s eyes staring at him steadily, but he couldn’t. All he could see were _Antonio’s_ eyes, all he could imagine were _Antonio’s_ hands.

He shook his head, dropping his gaze to the floor. Gilbert pulled him into his arms, which managed to calm Lovino slightly. Somehow the Prussian pulled them to an empty room somewhere along the corridor, some kind of office. Lovino wasn’t really paying attention, he barely noticed anything beyond Gilbert closing the door behind them. For a while, they didn’t have to worry about anyone else. They were alone, they were safe.

Lovino sat on one of the desks, which actually managed to make him almost equal in height to Gilbert. It was somewhat comforting, actually, as were the arms Gilbert wrapped around him as the Prussian stepped in between Lovino’s legs.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Gilbert asked. Lovino nodded slowly.

“It was Antonio,” Lovino didn’t miss the way Gilbert’s arms tightened around him, “he asked me to go have lunch with him. This is-it’s stupid, I know I’m overreacting, I just can’t help it.”

Gilbert practically _growled_ , cupping Lovino’s face firmly in his hands and slamming their lips together. Lovino couldn’t help but squeak in response, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides as he tried to figure out what was happening.

When Gilbert pulled back, it was only to rest their foreheads together. Lovino was still breathless from the intensity of the kiss, cheeks flushed.

“You’re mine,” Gilbert said, voice dangerously low. “Understand?”

Lovino nodded, accidentally knocking their foreheads together slightly. Gilbert’s words were comforting, in a strange way. It calmed his racing mind, knowing that Gilbert was so determined to keep him. Whatever Antonio did wasn’t going to threaten that.

“Lovi,” Gilbert said, tilting the Italian’s head up to meet his gaze. “Ich liebe dich.”

“Ti amo,” Lovino said, taking a deep, shaky breath. He needed to say those words, and he needed to hear them. “Say it again.”

Gilbert smirked, he was so full of himself. “Ich liebe dich.”

Even if Gilbert was full of it, Lovino couldn’t help but kiss him again, pressing his lips gently against the Prussian’s. What started slow and gently quickly became passionate and hungry, all the tension leaving Lovino’s body as Gilbert pulled him close.

Really, there couldn’t have been a worse time for Antonio to walk in.

If the opening of the door hadn’t clued them in to his presence, the strangled gasp coming from the open doorway certainly did. Lovino sprang back from Gilbert at the all too familiar sound, fear racing through his veins.

“Lovi?” Antonio asked meekly, eyes wide. The green orbs shone with betrayal as they settled on Gilbert.

No, no, _no_! It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Lovino had done this a thousand times in his head, but never like this. Not here, not- _no!_

He wanted to run, to just get up and bolt from the room, but Gilbert’s tightening grip on his arms made that impossible. Antonio’s gaze kept flickering from Lovino to Gilbert and back again, hurt quickly turning to anger.

“You left me, for _him_?” Antonio demanded, disbelief flooding his tone.

 “Hey, why he left you is none of your business,” Gilbert interrupted, finally turning to face Antonio.

As they stared heatedly at each other, Lovino finally slipped off of the table. He stood behind Gilbert, gripping the Prussian’s arm in his hands.

“Gil, please let’s just go,” he begged, voice small. Yes he was angry, at Antonio for making accusations and demands, but more than that he just wanted to get out of that room. The three of them in there, the tension crackling like electricity through the air, was beginning to make him claustrophobic.

“You’re supposed to be my friend,” Antonio said, the statement aimed at Gilbert.

“I am, your point?” Gilbert demanded, still shielding Lovino from Antonio.

“What, you’re screwing a nation that used to belong to me and you didn’t think to mention it?” Antonio demanded. Lovino snapped.

“Shut up!” he screamed. “Just shut up! Get over yourself, Tonio, and Gilbert I am leaving, you can join me or you can stay here. Whatever.”

And with that, Lovino stormed out of the room. He’d really hoped that would be the end of it, that they could just let it go and continue for the rest of the meeting with awkward stares and palpable tension. Lovino should have known that with egos as big as those two’s that they wouldn’t be able to just walk away from it.

By the time Antonio and Gilbert had pushed past each other into the hallway, Lovino was already out in the lobby. There were several other nations still there, some who’d remained through the break and others who’d just returned from lunch. They paid little attention to the Italian stalking hurriedly through the lobby, more focused on their own personal matters. At least until Antonio burst through the doors at the other end of the room, absolutely fuming. His presence was enough to draw the attention of every nation in the room, which in itself should have been terrifying. As it was, Lovino was more focused on getting away than actually being afraid.

“You’re just going to walk away?” Antonio yelled after him. “Like you walked away from me? Coward!”

“Hey, don’t call him that!” Gilbert said. Right before he punched Antonio in the face.

It quite quickly devolved into an all-out brawl from there. Lovino, already halfway out the doors, turned back at the sound of the first punch. Although nobody knew for certain what the Prussian and the Spaniard were fighting about, they were all eager to watch. The fight was rough and bloody, neither of them holding any stops. Lovino was sure he heard bones cracking at some point, a sound which caused him to wince.

In the end it took four other nations to separate the two of them, one of which was Ludwig while the other three were restraining Antonio. Lovino knew there was no way their secret was staying secret now. Antonio certainly wouldn’t have any problem spreading the news around, no doubt with his own twisted version of the story, and the one thing nations could do well was gossip.

With that in mind, Lovino stepped up to Gilbert once the fight had been broken up. He heard Antonio yelling, screaming ‘traitor’ and ‘whore’, though he couldn’t tell which insults were directed at who. For the moment, he couldn’t care less. Gilbert certainly looked a lot worse for wear from the fight, if the bloody lip, quickly developing black eye and the way he was holding his wrist were anything to go by.

 “How injured are you?” Lovino asked, forcing himself to ignore Ludwig’s presence behind Gilbert. He knew at any second Feliciano would undoubtedly run up to tackle his potato bastard of a boyfriend, and start jabbering on about how terrified he’d been, but that was something to focus on later. Gilbert was hurt, and that was all Lovino needed to think about now.

“I’ll live,” Gilbert said, going to wave the hand he’d just been holding. The wince and German curses that followed indicated he was anything but.

“Fine my ass,” Lovino muttered. “You need a fucking hospital, idiot.”

“Well so does Antonio!” Gilbert argued childishly. “I hit him just as much as he hit me.”

Lovino was painfully aware of the eyes on him, of all the other nations finally realising what was happening. He needed to ignore the whispers and the rumours that were no doubt already flying around. If Lovino thought about those things, it would only make his skin crawl and his mind race more. Already he was shaking, and no amount of clenching and unclenching his fists was helping.

“I’ll see about getting a car,” Ludwig finally said, taking charge. For once, Lovino was grateful. He didn’t have the strength to be assertive right now.

“You’ll want two, unless you actually want someone to die on the way,” Gilbert pointed out, nodding in Antonio’s direction.

Ludwig nodded once, pulling a phone from his pocket and stalking away.

“You okay?” Gilbert asked quietly, glancing down at Lovino.

“I’m not the one who just got into a fistfight,” Lovino snapped back, but he knew it wasn’t what Gilbert was referring to.

“Come with me to the hospital,” Gilbert offered. “I’m not sure sitting through the rest of the meeting is the best idea.”

Lovino agreed reluctantly, if only to avoid the stares for a little while longer. He wouldn’t admit that he was mostly just trying to avoid his _fratello_ , because that was a whole other situation that he didn’t want to deal with right now. Not today.

Ludwig returned, telling them that a car was ready. Lovino nodded in thanks, which was probably the least hostile thing he’d ever done towards the German.

The astonished look on Ludwig’s face was almost worth


	60. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Action-Character must wrap a gift.  
> Okay, so I took a little artistic license with this one. If you don’t like it, shoot me.

This would be so much easier if Gilbert would just fucking _sit still_. He was as hyperactive as a puppy (and as adorable as one more of the time, not that Lovino would _ever_ admit that out loud), which made it incredibly difficult to do anything that required him to be patient. At all.

Like, for example, rewrapping the bandage on his wrist because _someone_ had decided they needed to perform parkour through the house, leading to that _someone’s_ bandage coming undone. That someone being Gilbert, of course.

“Would you just _hold still_?” Lovino begged, voice halfway between a whine and a sigh. It was already the third time he’d had to do this, because Gilbert insisted on bouncing in his seat and moving his arm too much for Lovino to actually wrap the bandage properly.

“I don’t even need the bandage,” Gilbert protested, still refusing to sit still in his seat. Lovino raised an eyebrow.

“Your wrist was broken a couple weeks ago. Just because you still heal quickly doesn’t mean you can ignore that,” Lovino said firmly, giving an unnecessarily harsh tug on the bandage for good measure.

Gilbert yelped, glaring slightly at Lovino, before finally, _mercifully_ , sitting still. Lovino breathed a sigh of relief, able to make quick work of the bandage now that he no longer had to contend with Gilbert’s constant fidgeting.

There was a reason Lovino was so concerned about Gilbert’s wrist. It was partially the Italian’s fault that it had been broken in the first place. After…well, after Antonio had discovered them kissing and Lovino had decided his life was over. Which he was still sure was true, Lovino still hadn’t talked to any of the other nations since the incident. Even Feliciano had found his calls ignored when he tried to contact his brother. Lovino hadn’t been ready to deal with Antonio’s reaction, and he certainly wasn’t ready to deal with anyone else’s. Gilbert was acting as his only contact with the outside world, the Prussian’s phone calls to Ludwig their main source of news concerning the rest of the world. As far as Lovino was concerned, for now it was just him and Gilbert. At least for a while.

Which was all beside the point. Lovino had a job to do, and it didn’t involve him reliving painful memories that wouldn’t help him with the task at hand. Forcing the thoughts of everything else from his mind, Lovino turned his attention back to the bandage. Once it was wrapped neatly and firmly, Lovino secured the end of the bandage and set Gilbert’s wrist back in his lap.

“There, all done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lovino asked, mouth quirking up into a weary half-smile.

“Stupid waste of time if you ask me,” Gilbert murmured, unconsciously rubbing his injured wrist. Lovino slapped his hand away slightly.

“Don’t go messing that up,” he said. “Do you want to have to sit through that again?”

The fear that flashed through Gilbert’s eyes was enough to tell Lovino that he wouldn’t have any more problems from the Prussian. At least until he was fully healed.


	61. Movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Action-Character must go to the movies.

Lovino didn’t understand the point of going to the movies. In his opinion, it was a waste of time to go out, spend a whole load of money and sit in a dark room just to watch something you could easily have watched at home.

Although the reason he didn’t want to go this time probably had more to do with the fact that it involved seeing other nations. As in, nations he hadn’t spoken to since Gilbert and Antonio’s fight. But if he was going to refuse to leave the house, he would _not_ let that be his only reason. Even if it meant lying just a bit.

Except Gilbert had _really_ gotten good at doing puppy dog eyes (which Lovino was sure had something to do with Feliciano), so the Italian nation never really had much of a chance. Even with all of his excuses lined up.

“Please, please, please?” Gilbert begged, eyes so wide Lovino was afraid they might pop out of his skull.

“Fine!” he snapped, turning his eyes up in an attempt to evade Gilbert’s pleading stare. “I will go, but _only_ to stop you from making that _ridiculous_ face.”

By ‘ridiculous’, Lovino of course meant ‘adorable’, and possible ‘irresistible’, but like hell he was going to tell Gilbert that. What he was going to do was elbow Gilbert in the ribs when he caught him trying to discreetly fist-pump behind Lovino’s back.

* * *

 

“Remind me why I’m here?” Lovino asked, trying to pretend that he wasn’t clinging to Gilbert’s side like a lost puppy. Truth be told he was terrified, but somebody had arranged for all the nations to go see some new blockbuster and he wasn’t about to pull out now. It would make him look like even more of a coward than they probably already thought him.

“Because this movie is supposed to be awesome!” Gilbert declared. Lovino didn’t miss the way the Prussian wrapped his arm just a fraction tighter around his waist.

It was a comforting gesture. At least, it was supposed to be. Except then Lovino started thinking about how the others would look at them when they walked in like this, Gilbert’s arm around his waist and Lovino practically hiding behind the Prussian. The thought made his chest harder, knocking the breath from his lungs. Suddenly it wasn’t so comforting anymore.

He knew they were looking at him. Lovino could feel the eyes on him the second they approached the others. Some of them didn’t outright turn and stare, but even their attention seemed to be focused on the Prussian and the Italian.

Lovino wished the movie would just hurry up and start already. Gilbert started talking to Francis, which was actually somewhat calming. Francis had known for ages, he didn’t have any reason to stare. Lovino kept his eyes down, doing his best to ignore everything besides Gilbert’s presence beside him. His instinct was to run, to get away from the stares and the whispers that he knew were making their way around the circle of nations. But he couldn’t. Lovino needed to be able to stand beside Gilbert without being afraid, even if it was hard at first.

“I think the movie’s starting,” Francis said, nodding towards the nations beginning to filter into the cinema.

Gilbert tugged Lovino towards the doors, following Francis to seats near the back of the theatre. Lovino had a feeling he’d chosen them purposefully. He had to admit that he was developing a grudging sense of gratitude towards the Frenchman.

It took a few minutes for all the nations agree on seating arrangements. By the time the lights had dimmed and the movie was started, Lovino was considerably calmer. In the dark, nobody could see him, they would all forget about him and Gilbert for a while.

Lovino was _especially_ glad for the dark when Gilbert’s hand took his. At least nobody would see him blushing.

Maybe the movies weren’t such a waste of time after all.


	62. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Genre-Family

“I hate planes,” Gilbert declared, throwing himself onto Lovino’s couch.

It wasn’t as though the flight between Berlin and Rome was a particularly long one. But after having to get to the airport and go through security, as well as adding another hour in a car onto the trip, it was a pretty horrible journey to have to be making all the time. But Lovino really hated staying in Ludwig’s house, so Gilbert was forced to come to him.

“Move over, bastard,” Lovino said, trying to find the space to sit next to Gilbert.

The Prussian shuffled over slightly, making just enough room for Lovino to plop down beside him. He was squished between Gilbert’s bent legs and the arm of the couch, but he knew complaining would do nothing. Besides, it could be worse. At least he’d managed to get on the couch this time.

“Seriously, who made Rome and Berlin so far away anyway?” Gilbert said absentmindedly, turning so he was facing Lovino. The Italian just shrugged, feeling slightly self-conscious under the albino’s gaze.

“It’s not _that_ far,” Lovino said, slightly harsher than he’d intended. Gilbert just kept smirking, he’d long since gotten used to the way Lovino reacted to attention.

“You’re not the one who has to make the trip,” Gilbert replied, raising one eyebrow.

“Well if you hate it so much, why don’t you just move in?”

Lovino hadn’t intended to say it, but the words were out before he’d even thought about what he was saying. Gilbert’s expression changed from vaguely amused to shocked. Lovino, wanting nothing more than to die of embarrassment, simply chucked a pillow at him.

“Quit looking so surprised,” he said, knowing full well his cheeks were burning.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been thinking about it for a while. Lovino was just really awkward when it came to any kind of social situation, which had made it very difficult for him to actually ask.

“You really mean that?” Gilbert asked, oddly serious.

“No, _idiota_ ,” Lovino said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yes, I meant it.”

“Just checking!” Gilbert said, lifting his hands defensively.

Lovino simply threw the other pillow at him.

* * *

 It was a long day’s drive between Rome and Berlin. Gilbert was lucky, he only had to make the trip once. Lovino drove up, stayed the night at Ludwig’s house (where he was finally able to share Gilbert’s room without having to sneak around) then return to Rome with the Prussian the next day.

For a nation as old as Gilbert, the Prussian really didn’t have a lot of stuff. They’d decided to load the car up the night before, so they could leave as early as possible. Lovino had been worried about fitting all of Gilbert’s belongings in his car, since he wasn’t exactly keen to have to repeat the entire trip again. Gilbert had been pretty certain when he’d assured Lovino that wouldn’t be a problem, now the Italian understood why.

Gilbert’s things fit neatly into a few boxes and a suitcase. Ludwig had taken Feliciano out for the evening, leaving the two of them alone. He seemed to do that a lot when Lovino came over, which Lovino probably should have found insulting but was really just grateful for.

“This is all of it?” Lovino asked, surveying the small stack of boxes and the blue suitcase he’d become familiar with.

“ _Ja_ , this is it,” Gilbert said, hauling the first of the boxes into his arms. “Leave the suitcase, I’ll take it to the car tomorrow morning.”

It didn’t take very long to get everything into the car. It fit perfectly on the back seat, with the boot empty for Gilbert’s suitcase.

“Well, that’s done,” Gilbert said, slamming the car door.

“Careful with my car, bastard,” Lovino growled, though he found it hard to be mad at the ex-nation.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, putting his arm around Lovino’s shoulders and steering him back into the house. It was beginning to get dark and cold, so Lovino didn’t protest at being manhandled. This time.

They didn’t end up doing much for the rest of the evening. Lovino managed to find some food, despite the Germans’ kitchen being practically bare, and Gilbert found some movie for them to watch. If he was honest, Lovino was more focused on Gilbert than the movie, _especially_ when Gilbert decided it was a perfectly god time to lean over and kiss him. Which Lovino didn’t mind _at all_.

By the time Feliciano and Ludwig returned, they were passed out on the couch, wrapped around each other (Which Lovino knew his _fratello_ would _never_ let him live down).

* * *

Lovino didn’t pay much attention to Gilbert and Ludwig’s farewell. He was too preoccupied with Feliciano’s emphatic goodbye, which involved a lot more hugging than Lovino thought was necessary. Still, by the time the sun was up, they were on the road.

Gilbert seemed quiet during the drive. Lovino’s lack in social skills kept him quiet too, afraid of making things worse. He already knew what was going through Gilbert’s head anyway, since it was probably very similar to what Lovino was thinking. And it wasn’t as if the Italian had never left his home before. Gilbert may have been moving in with Lovino voluntarily, but he was still leaving his home and his brother behind. That spoke a lot about his relationship with Lovino.

Although the drive was long, it seemed to pass by quickly. They were back at Lovino’s house-no, _their_ house, it was _theirs_ now-before sunset. It wasn’t until they were inside, Gilbert’s things sitting by the front door to be unpacked lately, that Lovino fully realised how tense Gilbert was.

“What’s going on with you?” Lovino asked, cursing himself inwardly for the way it came out. Couldn’t he do anything right?

“What are you talking about? Nothing,” Gilbert replied, shrugging.

“We both know that’s bullshit.” Lovino folded his arm.

“It’s nothing,” Gilbert insisted, “it’s stupid.”

Lovino sighed, wishing that for once in his life he could actually have a conversation without having to struggle through it. Why the hell couldn’t he be more like Feliciano? At times like these, it would certainly be helpful.

“Whatever, don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” Lovino said, turning to walk away.

“I’m not good at commitment,” Gilbert called after him. Lovino turned back. “I never have been.”

“Don’t think of it as commitment, then,” Lovino said, “think of it as…a way to cut down on travel time.”

Gilbert seemed to relax slightly, nodding. If he was still nervous, or anxious, he was doing a better job at hiding it now. They were both terrified, because it was the first time in a long time that either of them had done anything like this.

One thing was for certain though, Lovino was determined to make it work this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hate my internet. And nobody told me it was going to be down all of yesterday and this morning. Two chapters tomorrow since I’m lazy and didn’t finish chapter 63 today (It’s the first day of holidays, bite me).


	63. Haunted

Sometimes it’s too much.

Being a nation is difficult. Nobody ever said it was going to be easy, Gilbert understood that, but _still_. He wasn’t even a nation anymore, not truly. Maybe that’s why it was so bad for him. He was a shadow of a ghost, a memory lingering long after it should have faded.                                     

That’s all he really is anymore, memories. They overwhelm his mind constantly, every war and every death. Each and every single one of his failings constantly haunt him. It’s painful, filling his mind with battles and bullets and so much _death_. It takes its toll, even on an actual nation. Gilbert’s long since given up claiming that title, and his body and mind are far from that of a nation.

The only time Gilbert’s not overwhelmed is when he’s with Lovino. He doubts the Italian even knows he’s doing it-Lovino doesn’t believe he’s capable of much-but whenever Gilbert’s around him he’s actually able to focus. It’s as if just by being there, Lovino distracts him. It doesn’t matter what the Italian’s doing, just his presence is enough to bring Gilbert out of his memories and back to the present.

It’s just the way Lovino is. Others would find such a demanding nation a handful. Certainly, Gilbert often found himself wondering what to do with someone so needy, for both attention and affection. But then he realised he didn’t have to _do_ anything. Lovino needed to be around him just as much as Gilbert needed to be around Lovino. It’d been so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to be needed. Gilbert wanted to be near Lovino because it helped him to forget the misfortunes of his past, and to actually think about his future.

For so many years, Gilbert had simply been waiting around to fade away. His death had been inevitable, as had being forgotten as anything other than the former Kingdom of Prussia, a had-been and once-was. By the time he’d accepted that he probably wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Gilbert had nothing. His land and title were stripped from him, he had no reputation anymore, and didn’t even officially hold a seat at the table of nations.

Lovino was the first thing he’d been granted in a long time. Gilbert knew why he needed Lovino, but he often found himself wondering why Lovino needed _him_. There was this constant fear in the back of his mind, a little voice telling him that one day Lovino probably _wouldn’t_ need him anymore. If that day ever came, Gilbert had no idea what he’d do. He refused to go back to what he was before, a drifter with no sense of purpose. All he’d ever used to do was cause trouble, now he actually had something worth acting decent for.

Gilbert had been terrified to move in with Lovino, for fear that the Italian would grow annoyed with Gilbert’s constant presence. It’d taken reminding himself constantly, over and over again, to be fully convinced that this was a good idea.

Because it _was_ a good idea. Lovino was one of the few people who didn’t just put up with Gilbert, but actually wanted him around (As hard as it was to get him to admit it). So long as Gilbert didn’t screw this up, it might just be one of the best things that’d ever happened to him.

Gilbert’s past may have been haunted by ghosts, but his present was graced by an angel.


	64. Butterfly

It’s not what it used to be.

Lovino should be worried about that. He can’t even remember how long he’s been with Gilbert, not without thinking about it, and their relationship is very different to what it was in the beginning.

Of course, _they_ aren’t what they used to be. They’ve both changed, but for once it hasn’t fucked things up. If anything, them changing only made things better.

That doesn’t mean it was all easy. Living with Gilbert full time had taken some getting used to. Lovino had known he was a bed hog, but fighting every single night to stay on the bed took its toll after a while. It had taken Lovino this long just to figure out how not to get shoved onto the floor or end up blanketless and shivering at 3AM. The best way not to end up sprawled across the ground was to get as close to Gilbert as possible before falling asleep, and hoping that you ended up inside the mass of blankets he would inevitably pull around himself.

And feeding the Prussian was like feeding a small army. It seemed like Gilbert was never not hungry, no matter how much food Lovino gave him. It hadn’t taken Lovino long to delegate the grocery shopping duties to Gilbert, getting tired of having to go out every few days to restock the kitchen. Which at least got Gilbert out of the house for a few hours every now and then, because although Lovino loved him, he really did, Gilbert could be a little overwhelming at times. Lovino didn’t realise how much he needed time alone until Gilbert had moved in. The Prussian was like a force of nature, his presence impossibly large, easily dominating a room.

Still, they weren’t major problems. Lovino could deal with them, and he did. They were nothing compared to all the good things about living with Gilbert.

There was never a boring moment, for example. Gilbert was hyperactive, he just couldn’t sit still. He was always tapping his foot, fiddling with something or being an absolute idiot (meaning trying to parkour through the living room, much to Lovino’s annoyance when he was trying to watch TV). Even though he complained and pretended to grumble about it, Lovino had gotten used to Gilbert’s fidgeting and hyperactivity. They were actually kind of amusing.

Lovino could definitely put up with a few little things, for the sake of being near Gilbert.

* * *

 

Gilbert wasn’t sure when they’d become what they had. In the beginning, Lovino had been someone who was kind of cute (Read: Totally adorable) and that Gilbert liked to be around. The progression from friends to something more had just been logical, and had been what they both wanted at the time.

Gilbert wondered, though, if either of them had seen it becoming _this_.

Had Lovino ever thought, back when Gilbert first stepped into his house, that one day it would be _their_ house?

And when he’d first walked in on Gilbert making black forest cake, had Lovino thought that one day they’d be standing in his kitchen, the German showing him the best way to bake it?

And of course, all those years ago, neither Gilbert nor Lovino had thought that one day they would be able to stand in front of the other nations, not as separate entities, but as a couple. They were still working on that one. Lovino was Lovino, meaning he was shy and stubborn and terrible with people. Gilbert was Gilbert, meaning he was loud and stubborn and terrible with people. Lovino was still hesitant to go out with the others, especially with Gilbert, but he was working on it. And so was Gilbert. He’d been lying about it for so long that it had become second nature to him.

But that was just what they had to do. What was the alternative, leave Lovino? Like that was ever going to happen. Gilbert could never do that, not now. Not only because it would probably kill him, but because it would destroy Lovino as well.

They’d definitely changed, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on getting two chapters out in one day to make up for the one that I missed. Please bear with me, I promise I'll catch y'all up on the PruMano goodness that you deserve soon.


	65. Roses

Lovino had lost count of the times he’d done something stupid without thinking about it. Whenever he got distracted, he forgot to think before he spoke. More often than not, that lead to him fucking things up. All he really needed to know was that it happened way more often than he’d like.

Regular days could become good days or bad days in an instant. And it _had_ been a regular day. Gilbert had gone out for whatever reason, Lovino didn’t really remember, leaving the Italian home alone. In a moment of creativity, he decided to do some painting while he had the time (and the quiet).

Gilbert still had yet to see inside Lovino’s art studio. Truthfully, he didn’t even know it _was_ an art studio, just that there was a room in Lovino’s house that was always locked. At least when the Prussian was home, anyway.

Even as close as he was to Gilbert, and as much as he was able to relax around him, Lovino still couldn’t bring himself to show the albino his art. It wasn’t that it was _Gilbert_ , it really wasn’t. Lovino had never shown anyone his paintings since Feliciano had tried to critique him. His _fratello_ had only been trying to help Lovino be a better painter, but having all of his shortcomings laid out before him had made it difficult for Lovino to open up about his art anymore.

Reason number one why Gilbert had yet to set foot in his art studio.

Lovino had heard the front door open a few minutes ago, but he’d been _right in the middle_ of a painting and he couldn’t just leave the studio now. He figured it would take at least a few minutes for Gilbert to come looking for him, and if he saw Lovino leaving the studio he would just tell the Prussian that what he’d been doing what none of his business.

It was a perfect plan. Except when Lovino painted, he got distracted. Really distracted. So any plans he might’ve had about keeping Gilbert out of his art studio were pushed out of his mind as he focused entirely on the canvas before him.

“Lovi? Where are you?”

“In here, bastard,” Lovino replied. He’d said it before he realised what he was doing.

The door opened slowly, Gilbert stepping in hesitantly. Lovino refused to turn away from the canvas, realising his mistake. He knew Gilbert was looking around, seeing his artwork, and Lovino stared pointedly through the window. Outside, roses swayed gently in the breeze.

“I knew you were a good artist,” Gilbert said quietly.

Lovino finally turned, just enough to look over his shoulder at Gilbert. The Prussian stood in the centre of the room, turning slowly as he took it all in.

“Why haven’t I even been in here before?” he asked.

 “Because I know it’s not that good,” Lovino said, motioning to the art hanging from the walls, stacked on the benchtops, some hidden away in cupboards.

‘What are you talking about?” Gilbert asked, tilting his head. “This stuff is awesome!”

Lovino stared dumbfounded as Gilbert inspected his art. He hadn’t been expecting that. Sure, he’d been expecting Gilbert to be _nice_ , what else was he going to do, but he actually sounded genuine in his compliments. Lovino honestly had no idea how to react.

“Whatever, that’s bullshit,” Lovino said, turning back to his canvas. He always resorted to the same thing, acting defensive so others never got a chance to really hurt him.

“It’s really not,” Gilbert said, stepping up behind Lovino. The Italian tensed at the feeling of lean arms threading themselves around his waist. “You’re an amazing painter.”

“Not as good as…other people,” Lovino said. They both knew who he was referring to.

“I’ve seen what Feli can do, and it’s nothing like this. You both paint differently, how can you compare yourself against him?”

Lovino muttered under his breath, not wanting to admit that Gilbert was right. Even if he was.

“What’s this?”

Lovino realised that Gilbert was referring to the one painting in the entire room that he absolutely could _not_ see. Though there wasn’t much Lovino could do about it, seeing as Gilbert was already pulling it out from the stack of canvases behind Lovino’s easel.

Lovino could only watch in shock as Gilbert picked it up, lightly brushing dust from its surface. He handled it with surprising care, lifting the painting at arm’s length to hold inspect it. Lovino stared at that rose splashed across the canvas’ surface, holding his breath. He remembered painting this, more vividly than with any other piece of art he’d created.

He remembered Gilbert being firmly in his mind while he painted.

“A rose,” Gilbert said, gaze flickering to the garden outside. “I bet you were looking out there, right?”

Lovino didn’t bother going into a rant about how art wasn’t usually that literal. It wasn’t _just_ a rose, it was colours and ideas and memories, all combined together into a picture that wasn’t just a rose, but was essentially _Gilbert_. That’s what Lovino had been thinking of when he’d been painting, that was what he’d put on the canvas.

“ _Idiota_ ,” Lovino muttered. “Just because I was painting a rose doesn’t mean that’s what I was thinking about.”

“Then what were you thinking about?” Gilbert asked.

“Y-you,” Lovino said, faltering. There really was no sense lying about it now.

“Really?” Gilbert asked, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the painting. “No wonder it’s so awesome!” he decided.

Lovino finally started to relax. Gilbert didn’t hate it, he thought it was good. Maybe…Lovino wasn’t such a bad artist after all.

“Shut up,” Lovino said, rolling his eyes, but both of them knew he didn’t mean it.

“I’m too awesome to deprive the world of my voice,” Gilbert declared.

Lovino snorted, elbowing him in the ribs. Gilbert acted wounded, clutching at his heart. It made Lovino laugh, properly laugh, and he decided that this wasn’t a normal day anymore.

Normal days could become good days or bad days very quickly, and this was definitely a good day.


	66. Letter

Gilbert refused to think of this as snooping. He was simply…looking around. Through Lovino’s things. While the Italian was out. That was all, nothing wrong with that.

Gilbert had thought he knew pretty much everything about Lovino. Really, what was there to know? Lovino was a loud, insecure Italian that Gilbert was in love with. Simple.

Except it wasn’t. Gilbert used to have no idea that Lovino painted, then he’d known but hadn’t thought much of it. Until a few days ago, when he’d found out Lovino had a real passion for it, he’d always assumed it was more of a hobby than anything-not that he’d doubted for second that Lovino was good at it. For Lovino, his insecurities were pretty much a guarantee that he wouldn’t continue doing something unless he was damn fantastic at it. Even then, Gilbert knew Lovino thought he was an average painter at best.

So he was just…trying to get to know his lover better. By looking through his things. Lovino sighed, dropping his head forward. He’d already seen everything there was to see in the house, he’d been there enough times for that. Even the art studio didn’t hold much besides paintings and a few sketchbooks, which told Gilbert little. He’d never really understood art, the only time he’d ever been involved in it was when he was posing for a portrait. Even then, it had been for vanity more than anything else. Yeah, art definitely wasn’t his strong point.

Which is how he’d ended up in the attic. Gilbert had barely remembered there _was_ an attic, and it was only when he did that he’d actually gotten anywhere in this whole endeavour.

The whole thing was dark and dusty, even with the single, bare light hanging from the ceiling turned on. Boxes were pushed up against the walls and piled haphazardly around the open space. A bookshelf sat in the far corner, and odd pieces of furniture littered the stacks of boxes.

Gilbert had no idea where to start. There didn’t seem to be any order to anything, much less any way to determine what was in each box. The only option was just to dive right in. The Prussian wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. To be honest, the only reason he was doing this was because Lovino was out, and he was curious what else he didn’t know about the Italian.

The first few boxes opened revealed nothing. A few contained old uniforms, folded and packed away. There were old relics from Italy’s history, books and various other things that Gilbert got bored of quickly.

It wasn’t until he found a box filled with letters that his attention was peaked. Gilbert _knew_ he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself.  He was already there after all, and he’d gone to all the trouble of finding the letters after all.

Judging by the colour of the paper, they weren’t organised in any particular way. At least Gilbert didn’t have to worry about leaving evidence of his…not snooping. Shaking his head, Gilbert not to actually think about what he was doing. Instead, he refocused his attention on the letters.

Some of them were old and yellowed, the paper crinkled and words faded. Others were newer, though none looking as though they’d been written very recently. Nations had been using emails for years, since writing physical letters had fallen out of fashion. They were all signed off as ‘Lovino’, meaning these were letters the Italian had sent rather than received. Gilbert wondered briefly how he’d gotten them back, though that probably wasn’t the most pressing issue right now. What _was_ important was the open box sitting before him.

Gilbert ended up pulling one out at random. It was an older one, the ink barely visible on the paper. The words were barely scrawled across half of the page, in a child’s handwriting.

 _Ciao Feli,_  
That stupid bastard Spain is making me come live with him, so I won’t be around anymore. Don’t you dare cry though! I know it sucks, but you have to grow up eventually anyway. I’m going to get back there as soon as I can.  
Lovino.

Gilbert didn’t know what to do with that information. He’d always just assumed Lovino stayed with Antonio willingly. Like everyone else, he’d never really gotten into the politics of it at the time, and when others finally cared, it had been too late. Still, Gilbert had never thought that Lovino was forced into Antonio’s house. Maybe that explained why their relationship had ended so badly…

What he was really wondering was why Lovino hadn’t been able to tell Feliciano in person. Perhaps it was just because of his people skills, although Lovino’s brother had always been able to get him to talk, albeit grudgingly. The only other reason Gilbert could think of was that Lovino had been forced to leave in a hurry, without saying goodbye to his brother. Gilbert knew what it was like to have to leave your family, though he’d never known that Lovino understood that pain too.

Now that he’d read one, Gilbert couldn’t very stop there. He was beginning to wonder if Lovino and Antonio’s relationship had ever been happy, or if Lovino had just stayed in it because he thought no one else would want him. The Prussian could only hope that the next letter held as much history as the first.

_Hey Tonio,  
My boss is making me stay a few more days. I know I was supposed to be home yesterday. I’m sorry…bastard. I didn’t want to come to this stupid meeting at all. Feliciano has everything covered anyway, I just feel like I’m getting in the way here. And…I miss you, alright? There, I said it._

The rest was just details of Lovino’s trip, and all the things the older Italian thought his brother was doing better than him. Gilbert kept wishing he knew of a way to make Lovino see he wasn’t as worthless as he thought he was, but these letters were telling the Prussian that it was a long-standing insecurity. This letter in particular also told him that Lovino had almost certainly once been happy with Antonio…he wondered what had changed.

Gilbert knew it wouldn’t be long before Lovino was home, and he’d have to pack everything up before then. But…one more letter couldn’t hurt. Just one.

It looked to be one of the most recent, the paper crisp and white and the ink clear and neat. It was longer, too, but Gilbert figured it would only take a couple minutes at most to read. He had time.

 _Antonio,  
I got all your letters, _ stop _sending them. I’m not interested. I told you when I left that I’m staying with Feliciano, and I don’t know for how long. If you keep trying to contact me, I can go a lot further away than my brother’s house. Don’t think about coming here either, he knows not to let you in._

_You know why I’m mad at you, and you know I won’t come back until I’m ready. We haven’t been working lately, both of us know it. And…I want this to work, I really do. There isn’t anyone else who would take me, after all. But you can’t keep treating me like a kid. I’ve been a fully grown nation for years, what part of that don’t you understand? If you can’t accept that I’m an adult, I don’t think what we have is going to last._

_I have to go now. I guess I’ll talk to you soon, or whatever.  
Lovino_

It took a while for Gilbert to process what he’d just read. He’d been friends with Antonio for just about as long as Lovino had known the Spaniard, and he didn’t remember them ever having a serious falling out. Except apparently, they’d had a fight serious enough for Lovino to walk out on him. It was odd that Antonio wouldn’t have mentioned it. He told his friends everything, or at least Gilbert had thought he did.

Although his mind had been moving slowly after reading the letter, the sound of the front door opening snapped it back into action.

“Gil, where the hell are you?”

Shit. Even if he answered with a lie, Lovino would be able to figure out where his voice was coming from. He opted for staying silent, or as silent as he could while scrambling madly to pack up the letters and return the box to its original position. He’d just slid it back on top of a stack of boxes as Lovino’s footsteps approached the stairs to the attic.

“Are you up there?” Lovino’s voice floated up through the hole in the floor.

“Uh…yeah,” Gilbert said, mind racing to come up with an excuse as to why he might be in the attic.

The top of Lovino’s head appeared through the floor, looking around confusedly before his gaze finally settling on Gilbert.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I wanted to check if there was room for some of my stuff up here.” Gilbert shrugged, aiming for casual.

“You barely have anything, how much can you store before you have nothing left down there?” Lovino motioned to the rest of the house.

“I found a few things I don’t really need,” Gilbert replied. It was a lie, but it was one he could at least follow through on.

Lovino stared at him for a few more seconds before shaking his head, disappearing back beneath the floor. As he vanished from view, his voice returned.

“Come and help me with the groceries, _idiota_.”

And just like that, everything was back to normal again. It was the same, and yet it wasn’t.


	67. Money

How much can be taken from a person before they themselves become nothing?

Nations know. They have _always_ known.

There were a lot of things Lovino hadn’t realised until Gilbert moved in with him. Most of them were smaller things, like the fact that Gilbert was incapable of staying still in his sleep, or that he ate more than humanly possible (even taking into account that he wasn’t, in fact, human). It had taken over a month of them living together for Lovino to figure this one out, though.

Being nations, they never really had to worry about money. So long as their economy was going okay, they had enough to not have to think about it too hard.

Gilbert just never seemed to have any. Lovino didn’t think about it for a long time. Because that was just it, _he didn’t have to_. It never crossed his mind. By the time he finally realised it, Lovino was shocked he hadn’t noticed earlier.

It made sense, of course. Gilbert didn’t have a country, so there was no economy for him to profit from. Lovino guessed he must have been living of Ludwig since his dissolution.

And there wasn’t anything wrong with Gilbert living off of Lovino now. The Italian certainly didn’t mind, especially when the biggest difference was paying a little (or a lot) extra for groceries. But it just wasn’t _fair_! Not for Lovino, he’d signed up for this, but for Gilbert.

It was as if Gilbert had gotten the worst deal possible. Yes, he was alive, but he had nothing. Gilbert had been stripped of his land, his status and his independence.  He was forced to rely on others just for food, shelter, survival. To a nation, maybe death would be a kinder fate.

They’d all been powerful once. Gilbert had lived many lives, had many names. He was as powerful a force as any of them had ever been. And now he practically mortal, as dependent on others as a child. Except Gilbert wouldn’t grow up like a mortal child, he would stay this way forever. Or until…

The alternative wasn’t something Lovino wanted to think about. What he did need to think about was giving Gilbert back some of the power he used to have. Even if it was just over his own life.


	68. Calendar

Lovino didn’t have a habit of marking important events. It was far too sentimental a practice, in his opinion. He at least _tried_ to remember the essentials, like birthdays and days of importance to the nations he was supposed to care about, but that was about it.

Which explained why he was so confused at Gilbert’s question.

“Hey, you know what day it is?”

Lovino froze in the doorway to the kitchen, mind whirring to try and recall if there was a date he’d forgotten. When he drew a blank, Lovino shrugged.

“No idea.”

Gilbert pouted dramatically, making a big show of acting like he was upset. Lovino rolled his eyes, continuing into the kitchen and flopping down on a seat at the table.  Gilbert was such a drama queen.

“So?” Lovino asked, propping his head up on his hand.

“So what?” Gilbert tilted his head in confusion.

“Are you going to tell me what today is or aren’t you?” Lovino demanded.

“Oh, right!” Gilbert said, eyes lighting up with realisation. “Today, it’s been exactly two years since our first kiss.”

Gilbert looked proud of himself for remembering, while Lovino was in a state of semi-shock. Had it really been two years? He’d know it had been a long time, but that was just crazy. It probably didn’t help that Lovino rarely thought back to their first kiss. Why should he, when he had two years’ worth of far more pleasant memories with the Prussian? Drunk on the floor, pinned beneath Gilbert, was not exactly the best way to start a relationship, and it definitely wasn’t his favourite encounter to recall.

“What, you remember the date?” Lovino asked, leaning heavily on the table. He couldn’t even remember why he got up now, it was far too early in his opinion.

 Gilbert shrugged in reply, trademark smirk in place. Lovino simply rolled his eyes in response, too tired to come up with a proper response.

“Was there even a reason you brought this up?” Lovino asked tiredly.

“Shouldn’t we at least mark the occasion?” Gilbert asked. Lovino failed to notice the Prussian’s suggestive tone.

“And how do you propose we do that?”

Before he knew what was happening, Gilbert had grabbed Lovino’s wrist, yanking it out from underneath his chin and pulling Lovino to him, their lips crashing together. Lovino was suddenly wide awake, kissing back once he’d gotten over the sudden shock.

They parted after a few minutes, both breathless and significantly more dishevelled than they had been to begin with.

“I thought something like that might be appropriate,” Gilbert said. At the sight of his smirk, Lovino couldn’t help but swat at his arm.

“Stupid bastard,” Lovino muttered, before pulling the Prussian in for another kiss.


	69. Hospital

Things like _this_ …weren’t supposed to happen to them. They were nations. Immortal beings. Things like this didn’t happen.

But it did happen, and it happened to Lovino.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there, but he was beginning not to notice the rough feeling of the asphalt on his arm and cheek so it must have been a while. His hand was crushed beneath him, and it was going numb, but Lovino couldn’t move. If he moved, he’d remember the pain.

It was somewhere at the edges of his mind. It was bad before, so bad that Lovino felt as though his entire body was on fire and he couldn’t think at all. But now, as he drifted in and out of consciousness, all he could feel was the tingling numbness in his arm, and the weird feeling of pressure inside his skull. Maybe that strange sensation was pain, and he just couldn’t feel it properly anymore.

Everything was hot, or maybe that too was the pain. But the heat was better than the sound, the wrenching screams of metal twisting and tearing, the horrible screeching-

No, Lovino couldn’t think about that. The pain started right after the sound, and if he thinks about the sound then he’ll think about the pain.

In the distance, there was the sound of sirens. Or they might be closer, Lovino couldn’t tell. Everything seemed far away now. There were screams before, but it sounded more like sobs and distorted voices now. Everything sounded blurry, if that was possible. Lovino didn’t know if that was possible, because it didn’t make sense. A lot of things didn’t make sense to him right now.

What did make sense was finally giving in to the darkness overtaking the edges of his vision. Fighting it was exhausting.

The last thing he heard was the sirens stopping, and feet hitting the pavement.

* * *

 This, Gilbert hadn’t been expecting. When an unknown number appeared on his phone, there were a few possibilities that ran through his mind. A prank call was the first, because they might be nations but they were still some of the least serious entities on the planet. The second was that someone he knew had gotten a new phone, and was calling everyone to make sure they got the number. Alfred in particular was pretty terrible at keeping track of his stuff, so it wasn’t that rare an occurrence to get a call from him explaining why he had yet another new number.

There were other scenarios that flashed through Gilbert’s head as he answered the call. None of them were _this_.

“Hey,” he said, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Is this Mr. Beilschmidt?” The female voice on the other end was unfamiliar. Gilbert furrowed his brow, turning all his attention to the call.

“Yeah…Who is this?”

“I’m calling from the hospital in Rome. We have a Lovino Vargas here who was involved in a car accident.”

Gilbert froze. He was vaguely aware of the woman calling his name, but couldn’t respond. Lovino was hurt. But he’d been _fine_ , just a few hours ago. He was supposed to be back from Rome any minute now.

“I…is he okay?” Gilbert asked, after several long seconds of silence.

“He’s unconscious but in a stable condition, he’s going to be fine. We found your details in his wallet, are you related to Mr. Vargas?” From the tone of her voice, Gilbert knew she sincerely doubted that he was.

“No, uh…I have his brother’s number.”

Gilbert didn’t remember much else of the phone call. All he could think about was getting to Rome, except Lovino had taken the car…

And then he couldn’t even think about that.

There was a bus, from Segni to Rome, and it didn’t run until that evening. Gilbert couldn’t stay in the house until then. He grabbed his phone and his wallet and paced around the town until he could finally board the bus. He tried listening to music, but he tore the headphones out after only a few minutes. The rest of the ride was passed in tense, impatient silence. Gilbert just hoped he managed to find the damn hospital once he got to Rome.

* * *

 First there was nothing.

And then there wasn’t. The pain came before anything else. There was darkness, pain and silence. The silence was the second thing to go, giving way to muffled voices. Actually, they were kind of irritating. The silence had been better.

The darkness vanished when Lovino finally opened his eyes, only for blinding white light to force them shut again. For a moment, he thought he was dead. Lovino was going to be _pissed_ if he was dead.

Except then the voices became clearer, and unless Feliciano was dead too then Lovino was almost sure he was still alive.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, which may not have been the nicest way to talk to his _fratello_ but he was in pain and essentially blind so damn it Lovino would say whatever he wanted.

He tried not to think about the fact that his voice sounded weak and scratchy, or the way it hurt his throat just to breathe let alone talk.

“ _Fratello_!” Feliciano’s voice was louder now, which was the _exact opposite_ of what Lovino had just said. It intensified the pain in Lovino’s skull, which was not the best way to improve his mood.

“Do you have to be so loud?” Lovino growled, finally managing to open his eyes.

Actually, maybe blindness was better. While Feliciano was hovering at the side of Lovino’s bed like a lovesick puppy, Ludwig was standing awkwardly by the door. The blonde nation looked as though he was trying to pretend he was anywhere but Lovino’s hospital room.

Also, Lovino was in a hospital room. What. The. Fuck?

“What happened?” Lovino demanded, glaring at Feliciano.

It wasn’t really his brother that Lovino was mad at, although bringing Ludwig (which definitely hadn’t been the German’s idea, no matter how much Lovino would have liked to blame him for it) hadn’t been Feliciano’s best idea. It was just the dull ache that was slowly spreading through his body, which either meant he was waking up or whatever medication they’d given him was wearing off. Probably both, actually.

“You were in a car accident,” Feliciano said quickly, so quickly that Lovino wasn’t sure he heard him right. “It was really scary when they called but we got here as soon as we could and you’re okay now so everything’s good!”

Lovino was sure that never in his life had he wanted to punch his brother as much as he had in that moment. If it hadn’t been for the pain and the medication, he might have finally done it. Although those were probably the things causing Lovino’s anger to be worse than usual, so he couldn’t really be held accountable for his violent urges. This time.

“What kind of car accident?” Lovino asked, struggling to remember. The only memories that came back to him were of pain and horrible, piercing sounds that made his headache worse just thinking about.

“Oh! They told me, it was, uh…” Feliciano trailed off, bouncing on his feet as he tried to remember. Out of the corner of his eyes, Lovino saw Ludwig shaking his head slightly.

“A drunk driver hit you,” the German said. “He’s in intensive care.”

 Lovino grudgingly nodded his understanding, wishing that his ribs weren’t in too much pain for him to cross his arms. The only good thing he could think of was that he wasn’t the one at fault in the accident. That would have caused a lot of problems.

There was really only one other question Lovino had.

“Is…is Gilbert here?” he asked. Lovino refused to admit that his quietness was due to anything other than the pain in his throat. He was _not_ shy.

One thing that could be said for the Prussian was that he had dramatic timing. As soon as the question left Lovino’s mouth, Gilbert appeared in the door to the hospital room. If it wouldn’t have hurt like hell, Lovino would have been tempted to laugh at his dishevelled appearance and the fact that he was seriously out of breath.

Ludwig managed to drag Feliciano out of the room then, which was actually kind of impressive given how hard it could be to wrangle the younger Italian. When they were gone, Gilbert stepped hesitantly towards the bed, never once breaking his gaze from Lovino’s.

“Hey,” Lovino said, finally realising that he probably looked like shit. He was mostly beyond the point of feeling self-conscious around Gilbert, at least where appearance was concerned, but hospital gowns were flattering on no one.

Still, Gilbert didn’t exactly look that great either, so Lovino could ignore it for now.

“Sorry,” Gilbert said, pausing to catch his breath, “that it took so long to get here.”

Lovino shrugged, ignoring the pain the motion caused. “I only woke up a few minutes ago, so…”

Gilbert opened his mouth to speak, then closed it a moment later. Lovino raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to say something.

“Are you okay?” Gilbert finally asked. As questions go, it was the obvious choice.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a nation, remember?” Lovino replied.

Gilbert nodded, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. Even the slight shift of the mattress sent pain shooting through Lovino’s chest, forcing a sharp hiss to escape him. Gilbert expression immediately changed to one of guilt and concern.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, moving to get off the bed.

It took all of Lovino’s strength to reach out and grab Gilbert’s arm. Although his grip was weak and nowhere near forceful enough to physically force Gilbert to stay, the Prussian settled himself back on the bed.

“It would have been totally unawesome if you’d died on me,” Gilbert said.

Lovino knew he was hiding his fear behind false confidence. He himself had done it enough times to recognise what Gilbert was doing. But right now, there wasn’t much he could to except move his hand down to link his finger with Gilbert’s squeezing with as much force as he could, which wasn’t a lot.

Lovino really did understand how Gilbert was feeling. The Prussian had been scared that he was going to lose Lovino, that the Italian was going to die. That was how Lovino felt whenever he thought about Gilbert fading away.

But right now, he couldn’t let himself think about that. Lovino needed to focus on the feeling of Gilbert’s hand within his own, and fighting back the exhaustion that was taking over him for just a little bit longer.

The pain in his head and chest reminded Lovino that he should also think about getting some more pain meds too. That would definitely help.


	70. Bandaid

The bigger wounds always healed the fastest.

It was kind of ridiculous, really. At least Lovino thought it was. You could get a broken leg and be fine in a matter of hours, then you get a damned paper cut and it’s there for days.

Lovino hardly though Gilbert had the right to carry on this much about it. He’d been the one in a major car accident just a week ago. And while he was mostly better, Lovino’s ribs still ached when he laughed and running was out of the question, yet Gilbert was practically throwing a tantrum over a little cut.

“Lovi!” he whined, running into the room like he’d just been shot. Lovino saw him cradling his hand, and was immediately concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Lovino asked, struggling to stand up without causing himself too much pain.

“I got a paper cut!” Gilbert declared, thrusting his finger towards Lovino’s face.

The Italian recoiled, just enough that he could actually see the injury in question. A bead of blood swelled along a thin red line on Gilbert’s fingertip.

“Quit being such a baby, it’s practically nothing,” Lovino said, pushing the Prussian’s hand away.

“But it hurts!” Gilbert pouted, looking wounded.

Sighing, Lovino went to the bathroom, returning with a bandaid. Gilbert’s eyes lit up, smiling as Lovino took his finger and placed the bandage over the injury.

“There, is that better?” Lovino asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gilbert nodded, inspecting his hurt finger.

Lovino rolled his eyes. His boyfriend could be such a baby sometimes, but Lovino wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short, second chapter for today that gets us back up to date.


	71. Make-up

If he had to blame anybody, it was going to be Feliks. He was fairly certain that this party had been his idea, after all, and _Feliks_ had been the one to suggest the bet.

So what if Lovino had gone along with it? That didn’t make it his fault. They _all_ agreed to it. Lovino bet they’d all been thinking the same thing. Nobody had thought it would be _them_ that lost the damn bet.

Lovino certainly hadn’t, and look where that had gotten him: Forced into a chair in Feliks’ bedroom while he and Feliciano slathered make-up on his face. Why the hell did Feliciano even know so much about make-up?

That was probably wasn’t the most pressing issue right now, but it was the only thing Lovino could think about to distract himself. Actually, he could think about the wigs sitting ominously on Feliks’ dresser, or the dress that he refused to acknowledge he was wearing. Lovino definitely didn’t want to think about that. As humiliating as this entire ordeal was now, it was only going to get a whole lot worse when they were done with him.

“Why do you even have all this shit?” Lovino demanded.

He knew he was stalling. They probably knew it too. It really did little to slow their progress.

“In case I need to, like, look more fabulous than I already do,” Feliks said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Lovino didn’t even bother asking why Feliciano seemed to be so proficient at this. He was too busy being concerned over the fact that both his _fratello_ and Feliks were standing back and admiring their handiwork. Lovino knew they were almost finished with him, and that meant fulfilling the bet. As soon as Feliciano and Feliks declared him ready, Lovino would have to go show everyone else at the party what he looked like as a chick. Great.

“Just one more thing!” Feliks declared, sauntering over to the dresser where the wigs still loomed over the rest of the room. Lovino gulped.

* * *

 Gilbert knew he was drunk. But he wasn’t _that_ drunk. He’d only a little more than he probably should have. So basically he was totally smashed and too drunk to admit it.

Lovino had been gone for ages, after getting whisked away by Feliks once he’d been declared the loser of their bet. Feliciano had gone trotting after them too, blabbing about not wanting to miss out on the fun.

The rest of them had been ordered to stay and enjoy the party. Gilbert didn’t remember exactly how long ago that had been. Lovino had been gone long enough for Gilbert to be missing him, which meant that it had been long enough.

Just as he was thinking this, the doors to the bedroom flew open. Feliks stood between them, arms flung out. His expression was actually kind of terrifying, his smile alone making him appear evil. Feliks said nothing, merely stepped aside and nodded towards Feliciano, who still stood inside the room.

Without hesitation, Feliciano pulled Lovino into the doorway with surprising strength. It took a few seconds for Gilbert’s mind to work through the alcohol-induced fog and realise that it actually _was_ Lovino. The makeup, dress and wig were kind of misleading.

Lovino looked like he wanted to die. Beneath the thick makeup his cheeks were red with embarrassment, and he stared determinedly at the wall. Gilbert could do nothing but stare. He’d never thought that Lovino as a girl would actually be _attractive_.

There was laughter from the other nations, most of it drunken and none of it spiteful. Everyone had their phones out, recording or taking pictures. Lovino dropped his stony expression to glare at them all, which did little to deter those with cameras. He even got a couple of catcalls, though they were quickly shut down by harsh looks from the Italian.

After the initial shock had worn off, everyone mostly went back to what they were doing. Gilbert realised that Lovino was wearing heels as the Italian wobbled over to him, steadying himself on the wall.

“Having fun there?” Gilbert asked, struggling to contain his laughter as Lovino struggled not to trip over his own feet.

“Shut up, bastard,” Lovino shot back, crossing his arms across his chest. “How long do I have to keep this damn stuff on?”

The question wasn’t directed at Gilbert, but he answered anyway.

“The rest of the night, a bet’s a bet,” he replied. Lovino glared, and looked like he wanted to hit Gilbert.

It was going to be a long night. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So due to some major personal dramas I didn’t get a chapter up yesterday and didn’t have time to write two today. Damn it, I just got back up to date on this story too…oh well, I’ll try and get two chapters out tomorrow to fix it!


	72. Song #5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Song-Running by No Doubt

Panic attacks were unpredictable. That was the worst part about them. They could happen at any time, for any reason, and last as long as they damn well pleased. Sometimes there wasn’t even a reason, Lovino’s mind and body just decided to team up to take him down for a while.

It started with his heart racing. In the beginning it was barely noticeable, just a slight shortness of breath and a disconnected sense of worry. Lovino was good at recognising the signs now, he knew when it was coming. He just wished he’d figured out a way to stop it by now.

Actually, Lovino had a pretty good system for cutting his panic attacks short. It involved getting up and going to wherever Gilbert was. Usually he’d drop himself right into Gilbert’s lap, where he actually managed to feel safe for once.

Right now, that wasn’t exactly an option.

This time, Gilbert’s absence was the main cause of Lovino’s anxiety. It was the first time since moving in together that Gilbert had travelled back to Berlin. While he’d only been gone since yesterday, Lovino already had doubts clouding his mind. What if he didn’t come back? What if he’d already gotten fed up of living with Lovino? Was that what this entire trip was, just a way to run without making Lovino suspicious?

Sighing, Lovino pushed himself off the floor where he’d collapsed and staggered into the bedroom. If he was going to be sapped of all his energy by a relentless attack from his own mind, he might at least be comfortable. It’d gotten to the stage where he could barely breathe, his chest feeling as though all the air had been forced from his lungs, so lying down was kind of nice.

There was only one thing Lovino knew might help him calm down, and it was in Berlin. He’d been putting off calling Gilbert, because he didn’t want to be needy, but dammit this whole thing was making him really regret that decision.

Lovino knew things couldn’t really get worse from here. So he picked up the phone, and prayed that Gilbert would actually answer.

It rang for an indeterminably long time. It couldn’t have been that long, since the phone didn’t ring out, but it still felt like an eternity.

“Hey, Lovi!” Gilbert finally said.

At just the sound of his voice, Lovino felt himself relaxing. He didn’t sound annoyed that Lovino was calling him, or strained, he sounded happy to talk.

“ _Ciao_ , Gil,” Lovino said, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

“How’s things without the awesome me there?” Gilbert asked. Lovino could imagine the way he would be smirking, and it made him smile. Just a bit.

“I can actually get my work done, for once,” Lovino grumbled, though he was too tired to be properly fake-mad.

“Admit it, you miss me,” Gilbert said.

“Fine, I miss you! Happy?” Lovino replied. There was a chuckle from the other end of the call.

“I’m only gone for two more days,” Gilbert said. “I can’t wait to get back though.”

And just like that, a weight had been lifted off Lovino’s shoulders. Gilbert _wanted_ to come back. He wasn’t running away, he wasn’t bored of Lovino, he was coming back.

A sigh from the phone pulled Lovino back to reality.

“Dinner’s ready…dammit I wanted to talk to you some more,” Gilbert whined.

“Go eat your stupid food,” Lovino shot back, smiling despite himself. “I’ll be here when you’re finished.”

 “You’re the best, Lovi. I’ll talk to you later.”

“ _Ciao_ ,” Lovino replied, only for the call to be ended a moment later.

He didn’t understand how even just talking to Gilbert could calm him down. Maybe it was because the Prussian always seemed to know what Lovino needed to hear, and _always_ made sure he said it.

Whatever the case, Lovino just couldn’t wait until he was home.


	73. Authority

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Action- A character must talk to an authority figure, such as a cop, boss, firefighter, parent, etc.)

The slamming of the door echoed throughout the house, followed by the sound of a phone being hurled against the wall. The glass screen almost definitely cracked as it crashed into the bricks, but Lovino couldn’t care less.

Once again, he’d gotten into a massive argument with his boss over something that could very easily have been resolved if they would just _listen_ to him. But nobody ever listened to Lovino. And it would’ve been fine, Lovino would’ve sulked and gotten over it within a few minutes (especially if Gilbert had anything to do with it), until Feliciano decided to get involved.

No matter how much he wanted to, Lovino couldn’t be mad at his brother. Feliciano had only been trying to help, and he’d succeeded too. Feliciano had stepped in and given their boss _Lovino’s_ idea. And who got the credit? Feliciano. Their boss thought it was a wonderful proposal, and that they should immediately implement it. Once again, Lovino was cast aside while his talented younger brother got the spotlight.

He pointedly ignored the bedroom door opening slowly, creaking as Gilbert no doubt peered into the room cautiously. It wouldn’t be the first time Lovino had been fed up enough to throw things at him, like that one time with the shoe. That’d certainly left an interesting bruise.

“Lovi?” he said, approaching the bed.

The mattress dipped with the addition of extra weight, to which Lovino shifted away, face still buried in the sheets. He _squeaked_ when Gilbert poked his side, lifting his head to glare and swat Gilbert’s hand away.

“Piss off,” he grumbled, dropping his face back to the bed.

“Nah, I’d rather stay here,” Gilbert replied, settling himself back against the head of the bed. If Lovino had the energy, he probably would’ve glared at him.

“Bastard,” Lovino mumbled.

Silence reigned for a few minutes, while Lovino brooded and Gilbert waited for him to start talking. Eventually, the Prussian got tired of waiting.

“Are you going to tell me what happened this time?”

More silence. Sighing, Gilbert returned to his first tactic. He finally got a response from Lovino as he poked the Italian’s side, causing the shorter man to gasp and draw in on himself. Fuming, Lovino sat up and shuffled back to the edge of the bed, hugging himself to protect his sides.

“That was cruel,” Lovino said.

“I know you are ticklish and I will take full advantage of it if it’ll make you talk,” Gilbert replied simply.

Lovino wanted to stay mad at him, he really did. But the hilarity of the threat made it impossible, and instead Lovino couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Gilbert looked confused for a few seconds, before realising how childish he’d sounded and joining in.

Once they’d calmed down, Lovino moved back towards Gilbert, collapsing into the albino’s side. His earlier tension was gone, and while Lovino was still pissed at the situation with his boss, he could deal with it.

“You ready to talk yet?” Gilbert asked, wrapping an arm around Lovino.

“Shit with my boss,” Lovino replied, shrugging. He’d spent too much time with Gilbert, he was picking up on all his mannerisms.

“You don’t usually get this pissed when it’s just your boss,” Gilbert pointed out.

If it was anybody else, Lovino would’ve gotten mad at them for prying. But Gilbert was rubbing a hand up rhythmically up and down Lovino’s arm, and it was too relaxing for him to work up enough anger to get mad.

“That _idiota_ refused to listen to me,” Lovino said, burying his face against Gilbert’s chest. “But when _Feliciano_ gave him the exact same idea, he practically jumped at it.”

Gilbert was silent for a few moments. Lovino knew he was trying to think of a way to comfort Lovino, because really what was there to say? It was unfair, it was aggravating and it happened all too often.

“Feli’s just better with people,” Gilbert finally said. “Doesn’t mean he’s better than you in general.”

“It sure feels like it,” Lovino mumbled quietly, but Gilbert still heard him.

“You’re the smart one. It _was_ your idea, after all. And you’ve got plenty of things going for you that Feli doesn’t.”

“Name one,” Lovino replied immediately.

“Well, which one of you has the awesome me in their bed?” Gilbert asked. Lovino failed to see how that was at all relevant.

“You’re so full of yourself,” Lovino said, shaking his head and scowling. But as much as he acted like Gilbert was being an idiot, it did make him feel somewhat better to hear that. Feliciano could have his stupid potato bastard, Lovino had Gilbert.

And in the end, that meant he at least had one person listening to him.


	74. Song #6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Song-It Will Rain by Bruno Mars

“It won’t last, you know.”

Gilbert nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected voice. He’d thought he was alone outside the meeting hall, but apparently not. He should’ve recognised the voice, but shock caused him to turn before he could think.

Antonio stood over him, glaring down at the Prussian. Gilbert stood, staring him down.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Antonio said. “You and Lovi, you can’t possibly think that you’ll last.”

“Why not?” Gilbert said.

He was acutely aware that if Antonio was here, then the meeting must have been over. Which meant that it wouldn’t be long until Lovino came out. If he caught Gilbert and Antonio talking, that was a recipe for trouble.

“It never lasts. Lovino will get bored with you, like he always does, and there’ll be nothing you can do to stop it.” Antonio didn’t just look pissed, he looked sure of himself.

In any other situation, that alone would’ve been enough to give Gilbert doubts. Antonio was hardly ever this serious. But this wasn’t just any conversation they were having, this was about Lovino. And Gilbert knew Lovino.

“And if you’re wrong?” Gilbert asked, folding his arms.

“I’m not wrong, you’ll see,” Antonio said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And with that, Antonio turned and left. By the time Lovino found Gilbert, the Spaniard was long gone. 

* * *

No matter how hard he tried, Gilbert couldn’t forget what Antonio had said. He knew he shouldn’t have. Antonio was wrong about Lovino, he had to be. Lovino wasn’t going to just get bored…was he?

In all the time they’d been together, Gilbert had yet to fully understand what had ended Lovino’s previous relationship. They’d danced around the topic, never really talking about it. Gilbert decided that it was time for that to change.

The decision occurred late at night, in bed. It was probably for the best, it was harder to run for Lovino to run this way. And from Gilbert’s experience, that would be his first response.

“Lovi?” Gilbert said, nudging him slightly to check that the Italian was awake.

“What the fuck do you want _now_ , bastard?” Lovino asked, sighing tiredly.

“Why did you and Antonio break up?” And there was the question, finally out in the open.

To be honest, there were definitely better ways of delivering the question.  Maybe Gilbert should’ve prepared Lovino for the seriousness of it, although that likely would’ve led to more avoidance on Lovino’s part. Either way, it was done now.

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Lovino demanded, looking away. Gilbert knew he wasn’t happy to be talking about this, but he needed to know.

“He came up to me after the meeting,” Gilbert explained truthfully. “He was trying to convince me that you’d leave me.”

Lovino’s expression immediately turned to one of anger, and Gilbert was tempted to hide behind his pillow for safety. Watching Gilbert, Lovino sighed before looking down.

“It was a lot of reasons,” he said quietly, unable to meet Gilbert’s eyes.

“Like?” Gilbert asked. Lovino sighed again.

“You and me, we’re friends. We did that part first, that’s how it’s supposed to work. But it didn’t happen that way for me and Antonio,” Lovino explained.

He had his arms wrapped around himself, and Gilbert was torn between moving closer and giving him space. Sometimes with Lovino, it was difficult to know what he needed.

“I was only there in the first place because I belonged to him, then…I don’t even know what we became after that but we were never _just_ friends. I couldn’t talk to him, I couldn’t have conversations like this.”

Gilbert decided it was worth the risk and moved closer, wrapping his arms around Lovino. The Italian relaxed in his embrace, allowing himself to be held.

“I always felt so useless, because I couldn’t stop us from falling apart,” Lovino said, so quiet it was barely audible.

Gilbert tightened his grip, about ready to kill Antonio for making Lovino feel this way.

“You can’t be useless if you’ve had two nations wrapped around your finger,” he said. To his relief, he felt Lovino smiling against him.

There was silence after that, Lovino quickly falling asleep in Gilbert’s arms. The Prussian couldn’t stay awake much longer, drifting into unconsciousness to the sound of Lovino’s steady breathing and the rhythmic beat of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note that updates will be a little more sporadic until next Friday due to midyear exams, but I’ll be catching up any missed chapters after that. Thanks for being such awesome, understanding readers!


	75. Hair Dye

The first thing Gilbert heard was Lovino laughing. It wasn’t the good type of laughter, the kind that only happened when they were alone and Lovino was completely at ease. It was the bad, snickering laughter that meant something was almost certainly up.

Although with the way it bounced around Gilbert’s skull painfully, any kind of laughter was the bad kind right now.

“You _stupido_ bastard,” Lovino said, sounding as though he was trying to hold back uncontrollable, hysteric laughs.

He probably was, for all that Gilbert knew. It would really help if he could open his eyes and see.

“I knew you were drunk last night, but I didn’t think you were _that_ drunk.”

Gilbert really wondered what it was that Lovino could see that he couldn’t (which at the moment was everything, but you get the point).

“Quit yelling about it already,” Gilbert groaned, lifting a hand to his throbbing head.

“I’m not yelling, bastard,” Lovino muttered, though to Gilbert his voice was loud.

The Italian was still snickering under his breath as Gilbert finally forced his eyes open, blinking against the harsh light. Lovino was standing over him, still trying to hold back laughter. Looking around, Gilbert realised he lying on the ground in a bathroom. No wonder his back was killing him.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Lovino said. He was clearly amused, shaking his head.

“Alright, what did I do then?” Gilbert asked.

As far as he could figure, he’d made an absolute fool of himself while drunk at the party. No big deal, he did it all the time. Most of the others would have been too drunk to remember much anyway, and Lovino wasn’t pissed at him so he hadn’t fucked up too badly.

“All _you_ did was drink,” Lovino said, folding his arms. His smirk was still fixed in place.

Confused, Gilbert managed to climb to his feet, steadying himself on the basin beside him. Lovino couldn’t help but burst out laughing again, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You look ridiculous!” Lovino said between laughs.

“Nobody looks good after a party,” Gilbert defended, still confused about what exactly had happened to make Lovino laugh like this. He’d said Gilbert hadn’t done anything, yet Lovino was looking at him as though he’d been an idiot the previous night.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Lovino said. When Gilbert did nothing but look even more puzzled, Lovino jerked his head in the direction of the mirror hanging over the sink.

Hesitantly, Gilbert moved his gaze away from Lovino to look at his reflection. The Prussian almost didn’t recognise himself, and for a very good reason. Instead of being pure white, his hair was now bright pink.

Gilbert could do nothing but stare in shock for a few seconds. He did _not_ remember agreeing to this…although he didn’t remember a lot of anything from the previous night.

“When did I agree to this?” Gilbert yelled, instantly regretting it as the pain in his head worsened.

“According to Jett and Alfred, you didn’t,” Lovino explained, smirking. “They thought it would be a good idea to make you regret passing out before them.”

Once his head stopped throbbing, Gilbert could do little more than stare at himself in the mirror. Of all the colours they could have chosen, it had to be pink. Who did they think he was, Poland? And why did they even have pink hair dye in the first place? Gilbert couldn’t stop thinking about Alfred and Jett drunkenly stumbling to a pharmacy at 3am in the morning and raiding the hair dye section. It was enough to make him snort, despite the situation.

“It had to be pink, didn’t it?” Gilbert asked, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror.

Gilbert felt like his skull was going to explode and his legs were going to give out under him. He didn’t know what time it was, but the Prussian had a sneaking suspicion that it was well into the afternoon. Whatever the case, he didn’t feel as though he’d slept nearly long enough.

“It could be worse,” Lovino said, stepping up behind him.

“Oh really? How?” Gilbert asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lovino shrugging. It surprised him slightly, because Lovino had never used to shrug much. He wondered when the Italian had picked that habit up, and if it had been from him.

“They could’ve shaved your head,” Lovino said, smirking. “Mathias suggested it, they just couldn’t find anything to do it with.”

Gilbert breathed a sigh of relief for the safety of his hair. Pink he could deal with, but not a buzz cut. That would be totally unawesome.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Gilbert said, pushing away from the mirror and wrapping an arm around Lovino’s shoulders. It was only half to steady himself.

“Come on, let’s go home already,” Lovino said, pulling Gilbert out of the bathroom. “I don’t want to get stuck cleaning up around here.”

If there was one thing that could make Gilbert’s day worse, it was getting stuck with clean up duty. Dealing with pink hair for however long this was going to last was bad enough. But like Lovino had said, it could probably be worse. If there was anyone that could rock pink hair and still be awesome, it was definitely Gilbert.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to kill Jett and Alfred for this though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm officially back! I know I promised I'd start posting again on Thursday, but immediately after exams I got pretty damn sick and was not in the best state for writing. But I'm back now, and we are getting this damn thing finished if it kills me.


	76. Pulse

Lovino jerked awake, breaths short and skin clammy. The darkness in the bedroom pressed down on him, forcing the air from his lungs and making him claustrophobic. Beside him, Gilbert stirred, and Lovino clung to him as though Gilbert was the only stable thing around him.

He remembered the nightmare in vivid detail, each moment of it seared into his brain, replaying endlessly despite his attempts to banish it away. Gilbert tensed up slightly, surprised at both the sudden awakening and the force of Lovino’s grip on his arms.

“What’s going on?” Gilbert asked, voice and eyes heavy with sleep.

Lovino couldn’t answer. He shook his head, unable to form the words as the images kept assaulting his mind.

_A cold, empty bed. Lovino woke alone, Gilbert gone. When he searched for the Prussian, his things too were gone. There was no sign of his existence anywhere in the house. It was as though he’d packed up and left, taking all trace of himself along as well._

Gilbert finally woke up enough to realise something was wrong, and brought the shaking Italian against his chest.

_He began to panic when Gilbert didn’t answer his phone. He called over and over again, and each time the call rang out._

“Nightmare?” Gilbert asked, absentmindedly running a hand across Lovino’s back.

Slowly, Lovino nodded. He began to calm down, feeling Gilbert solid and warm around him. Through Gilbert’s shirt, Lovino could hear his heartbeat, steady and reassuring. He was alive, and he was here. Gilbert was real.

_Lovino’s mind raced, possibilities and scenarios running through his head faster than he could comprehend. Maybe there’d been an emergency, and Gilbert had been forced to leave as quickly as possible, and hadn’t had time to wake him…but that would’ve made enough noise to wake Lovino anyway. The only other scenario he kept coming back to was that Gilbert had finally realised how worthless Lovino was and left him, sneaking away in the night. That would certainly explain why he’d taken all his things, and had been quiet enough not to rouse Lovino from his sleep._

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gilbert asked, tilting Lovino’s chin up with his fingers so their eyes met.

Lovino’s shaking returned. He was unable to open his mouth and unable to look away.

_Lovino had to know what was going on. He held the phone to his ear, though this time it wasn’t Gilbert he was calling. The phone rang against his skull, and Lovino bit his lip anxiously as he waited._

_“Lovi?” Feliciano’s voice came through sleepy and slow, and Lovino could just picture him rubbing sleep from his eyes._

_“Is everything okay over there?” Lovino asked. He knew Feliciano was at Ludwig’s house, he was rarely anywhere else these days. If Gilbert had run away to deal with an emergency, it would likely be something to do with Ludwig._

_“Si!” Feliciano said, suddenly seeming much more alert. “Why? Did something happen?”_

_“Gilbert’s gone,” Lovino said, his worst fears coming true. Gilbert had left him, he must have._

_There was silence for a few seconds, but the eventual reply stopped Lovino’s heart._

_“Who?”_

_“Gilbert,” Lovino said. He passed it off as bad reception coupled with Feliciano’s half-asleep state. Surely he’d just been unable to understand what Lovino had said._

_“Lovi, I don’t know who that is. Are you sure you’re okay?” And just like that, Lovino’s world stopped._

Gilbert stared down at him expectantly, and Lovino nodded. It was barely a tilt of his head, but it was a nod nonetheless. His voice wavered as he spoke, recounting the nightmare that haunted him still.

_He hung up the call instantly, unable to face the reality of what was happening. Minutes passed in silence, the emptiness broken only by the sound of ragged breathing and the cool stillness of the night. Finally, with shaking hands, Lovino found the strength to pick up his phone._

_More calls, to Francis and even Antonio, had similar results. Nobody remembered Gilbert. His things were gone. There was nothing to indicate that he’d ever existed at all, besides Lovino’s memories of the Prussian._

_Gilbert was gone, not just from Lovino’s house, but from existence. He’d faded away while Lovino was sleeping. He’d never even gotten to say goodbye…_

By the time Lovino finished, there were tears slipping down his cheeks and he could barely breathe through half-chocked back sobs. Gilbert’s arms only tightened around him as Lovino spoke, his voice fading to a whisper in the final moments.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Gilbert said firmly, chin resting on Lovino’s head. “I’m right here.”

Lovino nodded, unable to bring himself to speak again. He calmed down to the sound of Gilbert’s heartbeat, the gentle pounding passing from Gilbert through Lovino. He was here, they were both here, and Gilbert was alive. For now, Lovino couldn’t sleep just yet. Maybe soon, but not now.

For now, he needed to be awake, because sleep was far too terrifying.

But he had Gilbert, and for now that was enough. 


	77. Radio

The radio was the soundtrack to their life. Lovino couldn’t stand silence, it always seemed to eat away at him until he turned on the radio, the TV, anything that would make some noise. When the TV was off, which was more often than not these days, with the amount of work he always seemed to have, the radio was on. That was just a fact of life for Lovino.

It was a proper radio too, not a newer one that doubled as a clock and an iPhone dock or anything. It had to have been a dozen or so times Lovino had been forced to get it repaired, and the money he’d pumped into keeping it running certainly outweighed its actual value. But hey, he was allowed to keep it around for sentimental value if he wanted.

Gilbert had quickly gotten used to it. Lovino had never thought to bring it up. The Prussian was so loud anyway, Lovino couldn’t imagine him wanting silence. Still, he’d seemed a little surprised that Lovino had been so against the lack of noise. But he’d adjusted to it soon enough, so really what was the issue?

Well apparently, it was Gilbert making use of Lovino’s radio to create an incredibly interesting scene to come home to.

* * *

 

This was definitely one of the strangest things he’d ever seen, and living with Gilbert, that was saying something. There were a few words that floated around Lovino’s head, after the initial shock had worn off. Through mounting irritation, _adorable_ came to mind, though it was quickly forgotten, replaced by _irritating_ and _reckless_ as he snapped out of his daze to take action.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” Lovino demanded, shouting to be heard.

The radio was playing full blast, some song that sounded German if the lyrics were anything to go by. Lovino wondered how he hadn’t heard it from outside, before deciding that probably wasn’t the most pressing issue. What he currently should have been focusing on was that Gilbert was attempting to dance, in a ridiculous fashion that involved him spinning as fast as he could with Linosa held in his outstretched hands. The terrified feline seemed to have her claws dug into his hands, though Gilbert couldn’t have looked less bothered by this fact.

In fact, Gilbert looked so caught up in the song that he didn’t even seem to register Lovino’s presence. He certainly wasn’t responding to the Italian’s demands for an explanation, in any case.

Lovino finally found the clarity to tear his gaze away from his cat-who he was sure could go flying across the room at any time, Gilbert only had to loosen his grip-to turn to the radio and switch it off.

Gilbert jumped at the sudden silence, jumping a second time when his gaze fell on Lovino, the Italian standing with hands on his hips and one eyebrow raised. Sheepishly, he lowered Linosa close enough to the ground to drop her safely, and the cat dashed away faster than Lovino could ever remember her moving in her life.

“Explain,” Lovino said simply.

“It’s my favourite song!” Gilbert said, as if that should make it perfectly clear why he had been swinging Linosa around the room.

“So you decided to kidnap Linosa and hold her hostage for the sake of your ridiculous dancing?” Lovino muttered, loud enough for Gilbert to understand perfectly.

“Hey, my dancing is awesome!” Gilbert defended.

“Not when it involves risking my cat’s life,” Lovino shot back, throwing his arms out.

“You’re just jealous because I wasn’t dancing with you.”

Never in his life had Lovino heard a statement that managed to be both so outrageous and childish at the same time. The fact that he couldn’t help but laugh at Gilbert’s words made it very difficult to stay angry at the Prussian.

“Whatever you say, idiot,” Lovino replied, rolling his eyes.

Linosa returned to the room, lurking in the doorway for a few seconds before making a mad dash to safety behind Lovino’s legs. When Gilbert leaned aside to try and get a better view of her, the white-furred animal hissed loudly and bared her teeth, and Gilbert jumped back immediately.

“She’s going to be like that for a while,” Lovino said, smirking and crossing his arms across his chest. He refused to admit he was taking a small bit of pleasure in the Prussian’s fear, at least Gilbert wouldn’t be messing with his pet anytime soon.

“Is she going to bite me?” Gilbert asked, still staring at Linosa as though she might pounce at any point. Which was actually quite a strong possibility.

“Probably not. Watch out for claws though,” Lovino answered.

At the mention of claws, Gilbert finally seemed to notice the marks Linosa had left on him. He stared down, his fingers and the backs of his hands covered in small red dots, oozing blood.

“ _Idiota_ ,” Lovino muttered under his breath.

“I’m fine,” Gilbert protested, though Lovino had gone silent.

Taking Gilbert carefully by the hand-which actually meant grabbing his wrist, to avoid making it worse-he steered Gilbert into the bathroom and sat him on the edge of the bathtub. There were bite marks among the pinprick holes left by Linosa’s paws.

“Seriously, I’m fine!” Gilbert said, a little louder as he rose from the bathtub. Lovino pushed him back down with one hand, a small first aid kit in the other.

“Cat bites get infected easily, genius,” Lovino explained flatly, cleaning off the wounds with disinfectant.

Gilbert hissed as the chemicals touched his skin, though Lovino only pulled them back and kept working more forcefully. He’d been living with Linosa her entire life, and she’d been a particularly aggressive kitten. He knew firsthand how bad her bites could get, especially if they were infected.

“Does it need to hurt so much?” Gilbert whined, watching as Lovino wrapped a bandage around the worst of the wounds.

“There’s a reason you shouldn’t go fucking around with cats. _Especially_ not Linosa,” Lovino said, turning to place the first aid kit back in the cabinet.

Gilbert stared down at his hands, frowning. Lovino rolled his eyes, nudging him up off the tub and out of the bathroom.

“Quit complaining, it was your own damn fault,” Lovino said. Then, unable to resist, he turned Gilbert’s face and kissed the Prussian quickly. “How about I start making dinner now?”

At the mention of food, the last of Gilbert’s unease disappeared. He smiled widely, slinging an arm across Lovino’s shoulders. Lovino noticed the way he winced, but didn’t say anything. He’d let Gilbert think he was acting tough.

“You’re so awesome, Lovi!” Gilbert declared.

And that was the end of another strange day in the lives of Gilbert Beilschmidt and Lovino Vargas.


	78. Promise

His pocket felt heavy, even though Gilbert knew that its contents weighed practically nothing. It was the stupid metaphorical weight of what he was carrying around that he noticed. Damn metaphors.

To nations, fear was generally irrational. They didn’t have a lot to genuinely be afraid of, after all. Not when it came to everyday life at least. Which explained perfectly well why Gilbert was _not_ afraid. Fear was totally unawesome, and he was absolutely _not_ unawesome.

This wasn’t fear. This was just…common sense rearing its ugly head.

Though to be perfectly honest, it probably couldn’t be common sense either. Gilbert wouldn’t even be thinking about this, much less attempting to go through with it, if he had any of that left. If he’d ever even had any to begin with.

If Gilbert had common sense, there wouldn’t be a ring in his pocket.

When it came to nations, marriage was a tricky business. Not that it wasn’t regardless, but adding into that immortal beings obsessed with war and politics, and another layer of difficulty was added to it.

Of course, Gilbert _wasn’t_ a nation anymore. He didn’t have any politics to speak of, and as far as war was concerned he couldn’t exactly get involved in anything there either. So really, there wasn’t anything holding him back.

Except the thing that was most definitely _not_ fear.

They’d been dating for almost three years now. This was just the natural progression of their relationship, right? It wasn’t some split-second decision. Gilbert had been thinking about this for months, though he’d only bought the ring a couple weeks ago. And now it weighed heavily in his pocket, reminding him of what he needed to do soon if he didn’t want to lose his nerve.

At this point, that was becoming rather difficult.

Gilbert hadn’t tried to make anything special of the day, though it had somehow happened without his intervention. Lovino had been called to Rome to meet with his boss, and they’d somehow agreed to turn it into a sort of vacation. The meeting itself only took a day, so Lovino had booked a room for three.

Gilbert had been planning to ask after dinner, on the way back to the hotel, because that seemed like the most generally romantic time to do it. Lovino would never admit to being a hopeless romantic, but Gilbert knew him well enough that he didn’t have to. It would also be more private than asking in a public place, since Lovino wasn’t exactly one for public displays of affection and Gilbert still had his doubts about the Italian’s answer. Which he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help but be nervous. This _was_ kind of a big deal, after all.

Lovino had been the one to suggest they go for a walk around Rome together, bored of being cooped up in the hotel but not really interested in any of the familiar tourist attractions that Rome had to offer. Gilbert knew there wasn’t really going to be a better time, but now that the opportunity had actually presented itself, second doubts flooded his head. What if Lovino said no? He wasn’t exactly the most affectionate of nations, maybe he would just think it was a stupid, pointless gesture.

But then again, Gilbert didn’t _know_ that Lovino would reject him. There was every possibility that Lovino would say yes. If Gilbert didn’t think that would be the outcome, he wouldn’t have bothered buying the ring.

Still, it was hard for Gilbert to pay attention to what Lovino was saying with the impending… _situation_ weighing heavily on his mind.

“Oi, snap out of it,” Lovino grumbled, in the way that meant he was actually more concerned than annoyed. He was probably right to be, Gilbert had never been this quiet in front of him.

“Sorry, what were we talking about?” Gilbert said, trying figure out how much he’d missed.

Lovino gave him a strange look, before backtracking to somewhere around where Gilbert had stopped listening. Gilbert sighed inwardly, knowing he had to do this sooner rather than later. Lovino was beginning to suspect something was up.

Suddenly, Lovino stopped in his tracks. Gilbert panicked for a moment, coming to the conclusion that somehow the Italian must have caught on to what he was planning. But after a few tense moments, Lovino had yet to say anything. Seconds later, Gilbert heard him muttering under his breath.

“We’re _here_ , so…” Lovino suddenly stood up straighter, seemingly excited about something, before declaring, “Follow me.”

Gilbert followed Lovino, who was now taking quick strides towards something Gilbert didn’t know of. Lovino seemed unconcerned with filling Gilbert in on the details, though perhaps that was because he wanted wherever they were going to be a surprise.

Lovino led them onto a main street on the banks of a river, and Gilbert finally spotted what he guessed to be their destination.

A bridge stretched across the width of the river, tourists and locals alike milling across its broad surface. That wasn’t what caught the Prussian’s eye, however. What caught his eye was the metallic glinting of thousands of lockets all locked to the bridge. He’d heard about bridges like this, though he’d never seen one. And it was strange that Lovino would bring him here, of all places.

“Any reason we’re here?” Gilbert asked, looking around to the crowds moving across the bridge.

He was trying not to think about how this was probably the perfect time to ask, because then he knew he would have to actually go through with it. Which Gilbert wanted to do, just…okay, so he _might_ be a little afraid. But that was normal! He was allowed to be afraid right now, because this was kind of a big decision.

“It’s...a long story,” Lovino muttered, looking down.

“We’ve got a while,” Gilbert said, throwing an arm across Lovino’s shoulder. He just hoped the Italian couldn’t feel how tense he was.

 Lovino sighed slightly, cheeks red. “Feli made us put a locket on this bridge, even though it’s supposed to be for couples,” he explained. “It’s still here somewhere.”

Gilbert smiled, looking down at Lovino. He still wondered sometimes how they’d managed to end up together, despite everything that said they shouldn’t be happy with each other.

The bridge was more public than what Gilbert had originally had in mind. Then again, it wasn’t like he was going to get a much better opportunity than this. But there was one thing he had to know first.

“Hey, Lovi,” Gilbert started, grabbing Lovino’s attention. “You’re…happy, right?”

Lovino looked at him strangely. “What kind of a question is that?” he demanded, the red tint on his cheeks darkening as his eyes darted away.

“Well are you?” Gilbert pressed.

“Y-yeah, I guess,” Lovino said, finally meeting Gilbert’s eyes. He looked confused and flustered, but sincere.

Gilbert took a deep breath. It was now or never. He reached into his pocket at the same time as he sunk to one knee, opening the ring box in front of him. Lovino’s eyes widened, his expression unreadable through the shock. There were several gasps around them, and Gilbert knew he couldn’t back out now.

“Lovino Vargas, will you marry me?” he asked. It was simple, but that’s what they were. Simple and uncomplicated.

For a few tense seconds, the universe seemed to fall into complete silence. Gilbert’s heart stopped for those moments, until _finally_ , Lovino nodded. It was barely noticeable, but Gilbert prided himself on being able to read Lovino better than almost anyone nowadays.

“Yes?” Gilbert asked hopefully, because he was half convinced he’d imagined the small motion.

“ _Yes_ you _idiota_!”

He was completely unprepared for Lovino to pull him up by the front of his shirt and crash their lips together, especially with as many people watching as there were. A cheer went up in the crowd that had stopped to watch the event, though neither of them really registered it.

When one of them finally pulled back-neither could really remember who it was afterwards-Gilbert took the ring and slipped it onto Lovino’s shaking finger. They kissed again, and it was probably the most affectionate Lovino had ever been in public. Then again, he had a pretty damn good reason.

The crowd cleared after that, going back to their lives. But Gilbert and Lovino had a different life to go back to now, one that was only just beginning.


	79. Presence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by a lovely comment from Charlie_Bucket. And sorry for the wait, I wanted to do the idea justice!

There were some things you shouldn’t have to live with. More than that, there were some things you just _couldn’t_ live with.

Having your nation dissolved was one of those things. Being forced to remember the feeling of becoming _nothing_ was one of those things.

Gilbert knew these things, knew them more than any other nation could possibly imagine. Usually he could ignore it. There was always something else he could think about, something else he could do to push the memories deep into the recesses of his mind.

It didn’t always work, though.

Sometimes, Gilbert could do nothing to stop himself from remembering. Every war, every death, every single drop of Prussian blood ever spilled. It was too much, an entire history exploding in his mind, painful and unbearable.

It hadn’t been this bad in a while. Gilbert supposed he was due for a breakdown sooner or later. And of course, it just had to happen when Lovino wasn’t there, didn’t it?

He didn’t even know where Lovino was. Gilbert cursed himself for not paying more attention earlier, when Lovino had left. But how was he supposed to know this would happen? He’d been half asleep at the time, too tired to actually comprehend Lovino’s words.

These were his last few moments of lucidity, before the memories took over and it was all too much.

Gilbert just wanted it to stop. _He_ wanted to stop, if only to escape from the guilt and the pain and the constant assault of his past. Just for one second he wanted to stop thinking about the what-ifs, wanted to stop torturing himself with a thousand possibilities that would never, ever happen no matter how much he thought about them.

It went beyond the mental pain. Gilbert was immobilised, body stopping as his mind worked overdrive. He couldn’t stop the shaking, or the tears tracking down his cheeks. He was actually _crying_ , what the fuck was wrong with him? These were just memories, they weren’t real anymore, no more than he was. They weren’t supposed to do this to him. If he could just stop feeling so _weak_!

* * *

Everything pointed to it being an average day. Not that average meant boring, just a day when nothing in particular out of the ordinary happened. Lovino liked those days, when he didn’t have to deal with the rest of the world’s bullshit, and he could actually enjoy himself for once.

Of course, even the bad days started out pretty ordinary, he supposed.

The house was silent when Lovino opened the door, which should have immediately registered as odd. Except he was more concerned with carrying enough food to feed a small army into the house without having to make multiple trips than anything else, so he didn’t even really notice until he’d managed to haul everything into the kitchen.

When he did notice, Lovino finally managed to become concerned. His first thought was that Gilbert had slept in, it definitely wouldn’t be the first time. Although it was almost afternoon now, which quickly dispelled that idea.

With no other theories, all Lovino could do was go to the last place he’d seen Gilbert.

The bedroom door was closed. Gilbert had a habit of walking through the house and leaving every single door open behind him. So, unless he’d drastically changed overnight, Gilbert was still in the bedroom.

Lovino had no idea what to expect when he entered the bedroom. His mind immediately went to the worst, of course, but Lovino had gotten used to that by now. Shoving the thought aside, Lovino gave up on thinking about it and just opened the damn door.

Of all the possibilities that had occurred to him, Lovino had definitely not expected this. Gilbert was lying on the bed, back to the door, curled up and shaking. The tremors running through his body were occasionally accompanied by sounds that sounded suspiciously like chocked back sobs.

“Gil?” Lovino said, eyes wide.

Not waiting for an answer, the he rushed over to the bed. The mattress dipped beneath him as Lovino settled behind Gilbert, placing a hand tentatively on the Prussian’s shoulder.

Gilbert tensed up beneath him, a barely concealed whimper escaping him. Lovino wanted nothing more than to freak out himself, he’d never been good with people. But he couldn’t do that, not now. Gilbert needed him to keep it together right now.

For someone so skinny, Gilbert was actually pretty damn heavy. At least, that was the thought going through Lovino’s head as he tried to turn the Prussian over to face him.

“Gil, what’s wrong?” he asked, trying to be as calm as possible.

Lovino wanted nothing more than to figure out what was causing Gilbert to panic, and destroy it. Honestly, it surprised Lovino how protective he was of the albino, although there wasn’t much time to focus on that.

He recognised all the signs, it didn’t take long for Lovino to figure out Gilbert was having a panic attack. And that was probably the one thing Lovino was qualified to help with. Even if he hadn’t known Gilbert had them too. Well, not like this at least, since all nations had panic attacks occasionally.

“Gilbert, talk to me,” Lovino said firmly, absentmindedly stroking a hand through the ex-nation’s hair.

He could feel Gilbert slowly relaxing in his arms, which was a good sign. It meant that Lovino was getting through to him.

There were streaks running down Gilbert’s pale face where tears had run and dried, and red eyes were bloodshot.

“What happened?” Lovino asked again, gently.

“Just-“ Gilbert shook his head, sighing exasperatedly. Lovino knew that feeling, the feeling of being useless. “Just everything,” he finally managed.

Finally understanding, Lovino could do little more than nod and continue holding Gilbert. He’d stopped shaking, and his breathing had evened out a little, so that was something at least. Though Lovino knew that his mind would still be racing, torturing him with memories and possibilities and stupid, _stupid_ realities.

The rest of the day was forgotten, lost to the past. But Gilbert slowly let the memories slip away, and Lovino refused to leave him until he did.


	80. Computer

World Meetings were always, without a doubt, an absolute clusterfuck. No matter how many rules were put in place to try and keep the nations in attendance in check, it never worked. Somebody always got off track (Alfred) or started a fight (Natalya) or just flat out left in the middle of someone’s speech (Alfred again).

Laptops had always been banned in World Meetings. It was an unspoken rule that had never been contested, since everyone knew that there was no way they’d actually use them for note taking. Most would be sending each other messages, Elizabeta would probably be writing fanfiction about all of them, and at least a few would be reading said fanfiction. So basically, even if typing was far quicker than handwriting notes, it wasn’t worth the distraction that laptops provided.

The ban couldn’t last forever though. Especially without it being an actual rule.

It had started with Alfred, as most things seemed to these days, and suddenly everyone had their laptops with them in the meetings. It actually managed to speed things up slightly. Nobody was getting called out on passing notes, which lead to a lot few fights breaking out. So, shorter meetings and happier nations.

And if very few people were actually listening because they were too distracted, it wouldn’t really be that different from a normal World Meeting.

Still, nobody could say that it made sitting in a room for hours upon hours any less boring. Lovino certainly wouldn’t. It wasn’t like there were many people he actually wanted to talk to, online or otherwise, especially since Gilbert was off doing God-knows-what. Something more exciting than listening to…whatever Vash was yelling about, certainly.

Bored, Lovino rested his head in his hand and attempted to tune back into Vash’s speech. From what little he could pick up, it seemed boing and unimportant. Attention straying again, Lovino turned his eyes back to the laptop sitting open in front of him. A few half-typed notes stared back at him from a mostly-empty document, which was quickly closed in favour of Lovino checking his emails.

He’d honestly just been expecting to check if his boss had sent him anything. It’d been a while since he’d checked, he was bad at not putting things off, so there were quite a few unread message in his inbox. The most recent was the one that caught Lovino’s attention.

 _From:_[gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com](mailto:gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com)  
To: lovinovargas@gmail.com  
Subject: Running low on awesome?  
Hey, what’s up? Missing my awesomeness yet?

Lovino furrowed his brow, quickly glancing up from the screen. He didn’t know why he was so paranoid about being caught, most of them were probably reading their own emails too. The message was only a few minutes old, so Lovino hit the reply button and quickly typed a response.

 _From:_[lovinovargas@gmail.com](mailto:lovinovargas@gmail.com)  
To: gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Running low on awesome?  
I’m at a meeting, what do you think is up? Where are you?

He hadn’t expected Gilbert to go back to the hotel so soon, it wasn’t even lunchtime and the Prussian didn’t really like to be cooped up. Then again, maybe he was as bored without Lovino as the Italian was without him.

Another email came quickly, and with another suspicious glance to the nations around him, Lovino opened it.

 _From:_[gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com](mailto:gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com)  
To: lovinovargas@gmail.com  
Subject: Running low on awesome?  
Someone definitely needs another dose of awesome! I’m at the hotel, I ran out of stuff to do without my awesome little Italian!

The fact that Lovino was reading it in Gilbert’s voice and could just imagine his expression really weren’t helping. Especially since he was caught somewhere between blushing and fuming at being called little.

 _From:_[lovinovargas@gmail.com](mailto:lovinovargas@gmail.com)  
To: gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Running low on awesome?  
Hey bastard, I’m not little!

Lovino tapped his fingers against his leg as he waited for Gilbert to respond, trying to at least pretend he was listening to whatever was going on. He figured that if there was actually anything important going on he could get the notes from Feliciano, who would be getting them from Ludwig, which meant they would actually be both legible and helpful. As much as Lovino was loathe to admit it. Before he had time to contemplate his plans for catching up further, a new email appeared in his inbox.

 _From:_[gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com](mailto:gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com)  
To: lovinovargas@gmail.com  
Subject: Running low on awesome?  
Whatever you say, Lovi. I know the truth, and your denial is totally unawesome. Besides, what’s wrong with being small?

 _From:_[lovinovargas@gmail.com](mailto:lovinovargas@gmail.com)  
To: gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Running low on awesome?  
The only thing ‘unawesome’ is being called small. Do you know how hard it is to be taken seriously when everyone has to look down at you?

Lovino had given up trying to be subtle about what he was doing, far more interested in his conversation with Gilbert than trying to act even remotely engaged in the meeting. But really, very few nations cared about the meeting at this point. Lovino was honestly surprised the world hadn’t fallen apart yet. This thought immediately disappeared when Gilbert responded.

 _From:_[gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com](mailto:gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com)  
To: lovinovargas@gmail.com  
Subject: Running low on awesome?  
Awww, Lovi don’t be mad at me! You’re awesomely small!

Lovino huffed slightly, knowing that Gilbert was right. He couldn’t stay mad at him, ever.

 _From:_[lovinovargas@gmail.com](mailto:lovinovargas@gmail.com)  
To: gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Running low on awesome?  
And if I do stay mad at you?

Lovino smirked, not willing to give in just yet. Where would be the fun in that?

 _From:_[gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com](mailto:gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com)  
To: lovinovargas@gmail.com  
Subject: Running low on awesome?  
Then I’ll have to figure out a way to fix that.

 _From:_[lovinovargas@gmail.com](mailto:lovinovargas@gmail.com)  
To: gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Running low on awesome?  
You plan on doing this how?

Lovino caught Feliciano trying to subtly look at his laptop screen, presumably to get the notes he’d failed to take while distracted by his own computer. Lovino glared at him, knowing Feliciano of all people wouldn’t suspect him of. The younger Italian backed off quickly, and Lovino turned back to his screen and opened the newest email.

 _From:_[gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com](mailto:gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com)  
To: lovinovargas@gmail.com  
Subject: Running low on awesome?  
How long until you break for lunch?

Lovino glanced up at the clock. It was almost 12:30, and they’d planned to finish the morning session sometime around 12. All in all, they were doing a good job considering how behind they usually got. Vash seemed to be finishing up his speech-Lovino still had no idea what he was talking about-and he was the last speaker before lunch.

 _From:_[lovinovargas@gmail.com](mailto:lovinovargas@gmail.com)  
To: gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Running low on awesome?  
A few minutes or something. Why?

The reply was almost instant.

 _From:_[gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com](mailto:gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com)  
To: lovinovargas@gmail.com  
Subject: Running low on awesome?  
Come to lunch with me?

Lovino couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from quirking up into a smile, surely earning him a few looks from any other nations happening to be glancing his way, but he wasn’t paying attention to them.

 _From:_[lovinovargas@gmail.com](mailto:lovinovargas@gmail.com)  
To: gilbertawesomebeilschmidt@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Running low on awesome?  
Well…okay.

Ludwig stood up to call an end to the morning talks, and Lovino (along with everyone else) closed his laptop. Allowing them in had really been a good idea.


	81. Airport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Action-Character must go to an airport

Lovino thought that the whole thing was pretty weird. Gilbert wasn’t a nation anymore, as much as he deserved to be, and if he’d ever had to help Ludwig out with work before, Lovino had never seen him do it.

So that was why, when Gilbert said he had to go to Berlin for ‘official business’, Lovino was a little confused.

“What kind of business?” Lovino asked.

“Just helping my bruder with some stuff. Even he has to admit there’s too much for one person to do sometimes,” Gilbert said dismissively.

Lovino was still slightly suspicious, though he couldn’t say why, but he let the matter drop. It wasn’t as if pressuring Gilbert to explain things further would yield any results anyway. Better to just let Gilbert do whatever he was going to Berlin to do and let him be done with it.

“How long are you going to be gone?” Lovino asked, lounging on the bed as Gilbert packed.

Clothes had been tossed haphazardly around the room. Gilbert had never been the neatest person, especially not when he was trying to cram his entire wardrobe into a suitcase. He’d also never been the smartest packer either.

“A few days, probably, unless Ludwig’s downplaying how much work there is to do. So probably longer,” Gilbert said.

“From how much you’re packing, it definitely looks like longer,” Lovino observed. “Do you really need that many clothes?”

“Hey, my awesomeness needs awesome clothes,” Gilbert defended, attempting to zip up the suitcase. It wasn’t working.

Lovino rolled his eyes and got up, stepping on the top of the suitcase in an attempt to help Gilbert close it. After a few minutes of tugging the zip back and forth, during which time Lovino resorted to sitting on the suitcase, Gilbert finally managed it. He stood back triumphantly, pulling Lovino up and kissing him quickly. It took Lovino by surprise, and the Italian struggled briefly before kissing back.

“Come on,” Gilbert said as he pulled back. “We’ve got to leave soon.”

* * *

Lovino hadn’t expected Gilbert to return the next day, he got that it was going to be a while, but Gilbert had been gone for a whole _week_ now. How much longer was the Prussian going to be in Berlin?

Sighing, Lovino flopped onto the couch. There was almost definitely dried paint on his hands, but Lovino was too exhausted to worry about getting it on the furniture. He’d have a shower later or something, right now Lovino’s mind was just too dead. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been in the studio painting, but with Gilbert gone he had a lot more time to himself than normal.

The house never used to feel this empty before Gilbert moved in. Lovino had been used to being alone back then, even when he’d been with Antonio. Now it was like being alone was more oppressive than being surrounded by a crowd, and Lovino couldn’t remember ever living another way.

The ringing of a phone was the most welcome break to the silence Lovino could imagine. Scrambling as quickly as he could manage to pull the phone from his pocket-and ignoring the paint no doubt getting on his pants-Lovino answered without even looking at who was calling.

“Hello?” Lovino said, realising too late he probably sounded a little too eager. There was an all too familiar snicker from the other end of the call.

“Someone missed my awesomness,” Gilbert observed.

“Shut up, bastard,” Lovino muttered. It _was_ true, not that he’d admit it.

“Yeah, well…sorry I haven’t called much,” Gilbert said. “It’s been really busy, Ludwig really didn’t explain how much he needed me to do.”

“You going to be there much longer?” Lovino asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant. He absolutely refused to sound clingy.

“Probably…” Gilbert said, and Lovino’s entire body drooped. “I was kind of wondering if you wanted to come stay in Berlin until we’re finished.”

Lovino absolutely did _not_ perk up at the very thought of seeing Gilbert again. “I’ll see what I can do, it’s pretty fucking inconvenient.”

Gilbert snorted. “Whatever, you know you can’t resist me.”

Lovino rolled his eyes, feeling a lot less tired than he had a few minutes ago. Gilbert always managed to have that effect on him.

* * *

Planes sucked. Customs sucked. Travelling as a whole just generally sucked. If it wasn’t for the fact that it meant he got to see Gilbert, Lovino wouldn’t bother at all. Except he _did_ get to see Gilbert, as soon as he got his damn suitcase and got out of the damn airport.

Lovino would never get his head around Berlin properly. It was nothing like the cities in his own country, and whenever he was here Lovino began to understand why Gilbert got lost so often in Italy; the countries were just too different.

When he saw Gilbert, Lovino couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on his face. He kissed Gilbert the second he was in reach, falling forward against the Prussian’s chest.

“Missed me?” Gilbert smirked.

“Shut up,” Lovino replied, swatting at his chest.

He wanted nothing more than to collapse into Gilbert’s arms and sleep for approximately three months, but they still had to get to Ludwig’s house before Lovino could even think about resting. But if Gilbert was there, it would definitely be the best sleep he’d had in a while.


	82. Grass

It wasn’t _fair_.

Antonio couldn’t remember ever being this hung up on someone. It just hadn’t happened before, and that was half the problem. The Spaniard had no experience getting over someone.

At first, he’d been in denial. Antonio had tried to believe that Lovino would be back, that he’d always be back. He’d tried so hard that he ended up convincing himself that it was true. Even as years passed, he’d always come home expecting Lovino to be there when he stepped through the door, sitting on the couch and muttering something of an apology. And every time the Italian hadn’t been there, it had broken his heart a little more.

How had they expected him to handle the news of Lovino and Gilbert? Perhaps it would’ve gone better if it hadn’t been an accident. At least if it hadn’t happened in front of every nation, it wouldn’t have been so humiliating.

Antonio could barely speak to either of them anymore. He’d barely said two words to Lovino since he’d walked out, and since the fight at the World Meeting he could say the same about Gilbert. Well, maybe he spoke to Gilbert, but it wasn’t like it used to be. They couldn’t joke anymore, and every conversation was filled with tension and underhanded aggression.

It hadn’t been that he was expecting this to continue forever. Elizabeta and Roderich were _divorced_ for God’s sake, and they managed to get along just fine. Apparently, he and Lovino had never been that serious, so he couldn’t just hold this grudge forever. Humiliating things happened to nations sometimes, that was part of life for them.

And after all those years of hoping, he’d finally gotten over the hope that Lovino was coming back. His house was always going to feel empty, at least as much as it did not. Lovino was gone, and he’d never really been there in the first place.

At least, that’s what he’d though until he finally come home to Lovino sitting on his porch.

* * *

This was the one place Lovino thought he’d never find himself again.

Antonio’s house was the same as he remembered it. The porch that he’d stood on countless times, looking out over the surrounding fields of grass and tomato vines, was the same. The door that he’d once held a key to, _still_ held a key to, if Antonio hadn’t changed the locks, was the same.

He had to be here. Lovino had kept enough secrets from Antonio, but not this time. The ring on his finger was proof of that. If he was here to lie and keep more secrets, he would’ve taken it off. The last secret Lovino had kept from Antonio, kept from the world really, had blown up in his face. Antonio deserved to know, and he deserved to hear it from Lovino.

Lovino hadn’t brought his key. He wasn’t even going to try, even if Antonio almost certainly hadn’t changed the locks. Lovino had seen how hung up he’d been, he wasn’t going to ignore the small part of him that always hoped Lovino would come back.

No, he had to knock. Lovino had thought that getting here would be the hardest part. Convincing Gilbert that it was a good idea had certainly been challenging enough, and getting the albino to let him come alone had proved even more difficult. Nobody else knew the news yet. Feliciano had to know first, and Lovino knew that as soon as Feli knew everybody would know. So, here Lovino was with another secret. But this time he was telling it.

As soon as he could bring himself to knock, that was. Lovino’s fist remained motionless at his side, suddenly feeling very, very heavy. His muscles refused to cooperate, no matter how hard he tried to raise his arm.

This was ridiculous! It was just a door, it couldn’t hurt him. Although the door itself wasn’t what Lovino was afraid of, it was what lay in wait on the other side. Exhaling a deep breath, Lovino raised his fist to the door and knocked before his common sense got the better of him once again. He held his breath, stepping back from the door. Long second stretched into an eternity, but the door didn’t open. No footsteps approached, no cheerful voice rang out to greet the visitor.

Of course the bastard wasn’t home. Why would he be? That would make things too easy. Now Lovino had to decide whether or not to wait around. If he left, Lovino knew he’d keep convincing himself that Antonio wouldn’t be home whenever he tried to come back. But if he stayed, Lovino would spend the entire time he was waiting torturing himself with the possibilities of what would happen when Antonio got home.

Lovino had spent too long convincing himself to come to give up now. He let himself fall to the stairs before he could stop himself, sitting and waiting impatiently. This could take a while, and Lovino’s unease was only going to make that time seem longer.

* * *

Antonio stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the Italian just sitting there. For a moment, just one moment, he thought that Lovino had come back.

“Lovi?” Antonio said, almost sounding hopeful before he caught himself. “I mean, Lovino. What’re you doing here?”

Then Lovino looked up, and the last shred of hope Antonio had clung onto for all these years vanished. He looked sorry, but not in the right way. He wasn’t sorry he left, Lovino was sorry he was about to make things worse.

“What the hell do you think I’m doing here?” he finally replied, pushing himself up quickly. Lovino looked as though he instantly regretted it, but Antonio wasn’t surprised. The shorter man had always dealt with fear that way; hiding it behind anger.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here,” Antonio replied honestly. He couldn’t hide the tiredness from his voice.

Lovino sighed, leaning heavily against the wooden handrail of the steps. Antonio couldn’t help but think that he looked different. When had Lovino ever stopped his anger before? Never, as far as Antonio could remember. It was as much a part of Lovino as anything else, but then again maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Lovino’s seemingly constant irritation hadn’t always been there. Maybe…

“I figured you should be the first to know,” Lovino said, looking off to the side, towards the fields of tomato vines he had once helped tend.

“Know what?” Antonio couldn’t help but feel a little lost, because Lovino hadn’t been here in years and now he showed up babbling about something Antonio didn’t understand. The fact that Lovino was here at all just proved how much he’d changed.

Lovino didn’t voice an answer. Instead he held up his hand, knuckles towards Antonio and fingers splayed. It took the Spaniard a moment to realise, but once he saw the silver ring gleaming on his finger, there was a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah,” Lovino replied. “Gilbert asked, and I said yes.” He shrugged, a gesture that sorely reminded Antonio of Gilbert. When had Lovino started doing that?

“Oh…” was al Antonio could manage. Lovino seemed to be doing a pretty good job of rendering him speechless today. It always used to be the other way around.

Lovino blew out a long breath, raising the hand he’d lifted to comb it through his hair. A few bangs fell in his eyes, which he quickly shook away. Antonio watched, still half-frozen in shock.

“I don’t want to have to keep avoiding you,” he finally said. “I don’t expect you to just forgive me, or for us to ever really be friends, but this is awkward and _damn it_ , I hate it!”

Lovino’s hands were shaking, like they always did when he was honest. It made him nervous, and Antonio was glad that some things never changed. Well, unless it was Antonio that was making Lovino nervous, but that thought left him feeling sour so Antonio pushed it away as quickly as he could.

“Well, I suppose we have to stop avoiding each other eventually,” Antonio said, leaving off the part where he explained that he’d been thinking that anyway.

All at once, the tension seemed to leave Lovino’s body. Antonio hadn’t noticed he’d been so wound-up, and when had he stopped noticing things about Lovino? Probably when he’d started ignoring him, Antonio guessed, but still. Lovino never used to be able to get something like that past him.

“So, are you staying in town, or…” Antonio trailed off. It was still awkward, speaking to Lovino like this. The Italian shook his head.

“My flight leaves tonight,” he said, finally daring to meet Antonio’s eyes. The few seconds of eye contact were brief, but they were a start.

Lovino started to step down from the porch, as if he intended to leave, but Antonio stepped in his way. It was a menacing gesture, and Lovino didn’t seem to take it as one.

“Would you like to come inside?” Antonio asked, trying his best to make it sound kind. He wanted to be friends, he didn’t want to lose Lovino entirely. Maybe they couldn’t be together again, but friends was enough, right? It had to be.

Lovino looked uncertain, so Antonio added, “I made some churros this morning.” And he knew how Lovino loved Spanish food, as much as he adamantly cling to his beliefs that Italian cuisine was best.

“That would-I’d like that,” Lovino said, a little uncertainly. He checked himself, shaking his head before trying again. “That would be nice,” he said, with slightly more confidence.

Antonio knew it might be awkward, but they had to start somewhere. And this was as good a place as any, so he unlocked the door and stepped inside, trusting Lovino would follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to make any excuses for myself. I lost inspiration for this story, and I kind of thought I might abandon it altogether. But I want to finish this, because I made a commitment and I said I would. So I'm not disappearing again, I'm here to stay this time. Enjoy this chapter, and the rest will follow soon.


	83. Quote #6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: “If you can make a girl laugh, you can make her do anything”-Marilyn Monroe

Lovino was not the kind of person to laugh. Not outwardly, openly, or publicly anyway. After all, he had a reputation to keep up, and laughing certainly wasn’t conducive to appearing constantly sour and bitter.

It was when the Italian nation was alone-or with those he truly trusted-that he’d drop that façade.

Getting some drinks into him would do it too, of course, but pointing that out would cause Lovino to challenge you to find someone who _wasn’t_ loosened up by alcohol.

Despite all this, Lovino did laugh. In fact, Lovino had many laughs, and Gilbert was quite proud to say that he knew all of them.

First, there was the quiet exhale of air through his nose, hushed and often hidden behind his hand, that happened when something was so utterly stupid or ridiculous that Lovino simply had to laugh in public. That was the laugh that, should anyone notice it, Lovino would pass off as a derisive snort and promptly snap at whoever had asked to mind their own business. But Gilbert had spent far too much time around Lovino to think that was the Italian’s only laugh.

The one he heard the most often was a deep, loud laugh that if he was being honest was just Lovino’s way of making snorting attractive. It was the laugh Lovino let out whenever someone (including Gilbert himself) made a fool of themselves, or when he found something hilarious in a completely ridiculous way. Gilbert liked that laugh, it meant Lovino wasn’t sick of him.

* * *

 

Gilbert would laugh at just about anything, given enough beer.

Even sober, the Prussian would laugh until he was red in the face if something amused him. It was part of who he was; the loud, irritating ex-nation of Prussia. It would be weird if he _didn’t_ laugh at others’ foolish mistakes.

Of course, that was just one of Gilbert’s laughs. That was the _kesese_ other nations cringed at, the snicker unique to Gilbert and Gilbert alone.

Gilbert had other laughs, though. And although he was (usually) the epitome of confidence, barely anybody was ever allowed to hear them. The Prussian _did_ have an image to uphold, after all.

Lovino was among the few Gilbert knew well enough to let his guard down around. And that meant Lovino knew all of Gilbert’s laughs.

There was first the laugh he used in public, to keep up appearances as the loud, brash Prussian everybody knew him as. Lovino also suspected this one, his signature cackle, was also meant for keeping people away. Who wanted to get near someone that barked out a laugh that annoying every few seconds? Not many people, that was for sure, and Gilbert liked it that way. Lovino knew it was because Gilbert was scared of losing people, not that he’d ever admit it.

But if you were alone with Gilbert, and he trusted you, that was not how he laughed. When Gilbert let his guard down he would chuckle, or perhaps snigger, if he felt particularly snide. This was the laugh Lovino heard, the one he felt privileged to hear (not that he’d ever admit it), the laugh that bounced off the walls and lit up the house, and filled Lovino with a strange warmth he refused to acknowledge to anybody but himself.

That laugh meant that Gilbert trusted him, and Lovino still had no idea why exactly. He just knew that it made him happy, and that in itself was still a new feeling to him. But Lovino was learning to be happy, and Gilbert was helping, and in truth, that was the only thing that really mattered.


	84. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert forces Lovino to come grocery shopping with him.

“We don’t need all this crap.”

“Yes we do!”

“Do not.”

“Do!”

Lovino sighed. “Gilbert, we do not need 100 pop tarts. We don’t even eat pop tarts.”

The last comment was met with the most _ridiculous_ attempt at puppy-dog eyes Lovino had ever seen, one that was so incredibly unexpected that he couldn’t stop the exasperated laughter that made its way out of his mouth.

“They’re really cheap, and also pop tarts!” Gilbert begged, holding up a box of the sugary treats in question.

“Why are they all chocolate?” Lovino asked, craning his neck to stare into the nearly full shopping cart he’d left for _five seconds_ only to come back and find covered in pop tart boxes. Chocolate pop tart boxes.

“Because chocolate kicks ass,” Gilbert said simply, dropping the box and dropping the matter.

Lovino shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I think you mean awesome,” Gilbert shot back, winking.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

With another sigh, one that was entirely forced, Lovino started pushing the cart that Gilbert had been leaning on, causing the albino to stumble and nearly face plant on the floor of the local supermarket. Nearly.

“You’re lucky I do,” Lovino said, stopping to grab a few things. “Otherwise you would _not_ be getting pop tarts.”

Shopping wasn’t supposed to be this fun. In fact, for as long as Lovino could remember, shopping had been a constant thorn in his side. When Gilbert had moved in he’d been happy to delegate the duties to the ex-nation. Of course he’d known Gilbert would come home each and every time with some sugary crap they absolutely didn’t need and that neither one of them would finish, but Lovino could live with that for the sake of not having to go grocery shopping. Besides, Gilbird and Linosa would eat the stale leftovers.

The only reason he was there at all was because he’d needed to go out anyway, resulting in Gilbert forcing Lovino to drive him to the supermarket.

Because for as long as he’d lived with Lovino by now, Gilbert still managed to get lost every single time he walked out the door.

“Is this everything?” Lovino asked, since he couldn’t see underneath all the pop tart boxes.

“I think so, unless you wanted anything else,” Gilbert said, face scrunched up in thought.

Lovino shrugged, shook his head, and started pushing the shopping cart towards the front. Gilbert followed like a lost puppy, which shouldn’t have been nearly as adorable as it was. Adorable was not a word Lovino ever thought he would be using to describe Gilbert.

The middle-aged woman that rang up their groceries looked amused at the number of pop tart boxes thrown on top of the cart, but didn’t say anything. Lovino rolled his eyes and jerked his head towards Gilbert, who was engrossed in trying to sneak some chocolate from the nearby display into the cart without Lovino noticing, in response.

Lovino pretended not to notice the two bars of chocolate that joined the rest of their food on the checkout. He would feign surprise later, when Gilbert produced them at home, and pretend to berate him for it too, because if buying a whole bunch of excessively sugary crap made Gilbert happy, then who was he to complain? Maybe he should’ve been concerned at how domestic the two of them were getting.

Either way, Lovino had to secretly agree that chocolate did in fact kick ass.

 


	85. Dinner

Lovino knew that one of the hardest things about living with Gilbert was cooking for him.

Not just the amount, although the sheer volume of food Gilbert ate was startling in itself, but exactly _what_ Gilbert liked to eat. He enjoyed Lovino’s cooking, the Italian dishes of pasta and pizza and everything else Lovino had been cooking for far longer than he could remember, of course. But he also had his other, far more… _cultural_ tastes.

Gilbert enjoyed German cuisine. And Lovino found it physically painful to cook.

It wasn’t as though it was _bad_ , necessarily (although Lovino did have a few choice words to say about their complete lack of taste, in his opinion). Lovino wouldn’t go so far as to say that it was good, either. At most, it was…palatable. Still, Gilbert wanted it, and there was no way Lovino trusted Gilbert in the kitchen alone.

Gilbert had-more than once-suggested they throw both of their favourite foods together and eat whatever came out of it. Lovino had swatted at him with the pan and gone back to making pasta. Or sausages.

If someone had told him a few years ago that he’d be standing in his kitchen cooking _sausages_ for _Gilbert_ of all people, he’d have called them crazy and cussed them out for it.

Of course, someone had to feed Gilbert. He ate more than was physically possible, couldn’t cook for himself without turning the kitchen into a bomb site and currently had nobody but Lovino to provide his meals for him.

However, that didn’t stop Gilbert from occasionally trying.

When Lovino got home after a day of travelling to Rome, getting yelled at by his boss and having to listen to Feliciano receive all the praise _yet again_ , the last thing Lovino wanted to do was have to deal with a disaster in the kitchen.

And yet, when he walked through the door, the first thing Lovino heard was the clanging of pots and pans coming from further inside the house. Always a good sign. Sure enough, when Lovino made his way into the kitchen, it looked like a warzone.

Pots, pans and bowls were stacked up on the bench, most half-full of something Lovino didn’t even want to _try_ and identify. Gilbert was standing over a pan on the stove, where it looked like what used to be sausages had caught fire and were now burnt to a thin, brittle crisp.

Linosa was huddled in the corner, Gilbird on her head, but the moment Lovino opened the door they were bolting out. Linosa stopped only to hiss at Gilbert as she went, before disappearing into the hallway. It took a while longer for Gilbert to spot Lovino.

“Lovi!” Gilbert rushed towards him, arms outstretched. Lovino raised one hand to stop him, and Gilbert stopped.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Lovino demanded.

Gilbert tilted his head. “Cooking dinner, obviously.”

Lovino’s gaze moved to the pan, still on the heat, and the black husks that had once been sausages. Gilbert followed his eyes, and upon seeing what the Italian was looking at rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, more like trying to cook dinner.” Gilbert smiled, an almost sheepish expression on his face. “I wanted to have it ready for when you got home!”

Damn it, he was doing the puppy dog eyes again. Seriously, Feliciano must have taught him how, because the younger Italian was the only other person Lovino knew that could pull off that look.

Lovino considered his options. It was late, so there was no chance of getting takeout. And Lovino hadn’t eaten since before he’d left that morning, so just going hungry wasn’t going to cut it. They didn’t even have any leftovers they could reheat, since Gilbert never left anything uneaten. No, Lovino was going to have to make something.

“Alright, you clean, I’ll cook,” Lovino said.

Gilbert looked slightly dejected, but another glance at his cooking attempts kept him quiet. As Lovino set about finding a clean pot to boil some water in, Gilbert started clearing off the stove. They worked in tandem, Lovino tending the pasta and sauce (the one thing they did seem to have leftover), and Gilbert bustling around him to clean up the mess. Lovino snorted as Gilbert burst into some particularly colourful language trying to scrape the burned sausages out of the pan, before giving up and dumping it some hot water to soak.

“You win this round,” he said, giving the pan some serious dagger eyes.

“Hey idiot, if you’re done having a fight with the pan, get some bowls,” Lovino said.

By the time Lovino had portioned out two bowls of pasta, Gilbert had managed to return the kitchen mostly to normal. For all that Gilbert was usually an explosive force of disaster, Lovino would admit he knew how to put things in order. It was one of the less unsettling similarities between him and Ludwig.

“Let’s eat in the lounge,” Lovino said, picking up his own portion. Gilbert followed suit, wrapping his free arm around Lovino’s shoulders.

They ended up watching whatever movie was on late night TV. It was in Italian, without subtitles, and Lovino was proud to note that Gilbert only occasionally had to ask for a translation. It made him feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy that would completely ruin his image if Lovino were to ever admit to it. So he settled for acting irritated instead.

“Hey bastard, next time you get the bright idea of trying to cook, warn me,” Lovino said.

Gilbert feigned hurt, reeling back with the most dramatic expression physically possible.

“Lovi, how could you? I am awesome at cooking!” The albino threw his arms out for dramatic effect.

Lovino rolled his eyes. “The pan currently soaking in the sink would disagree.”

Gilbert opened his mouth, paused, then closed it again. He thought for a moment longer before answering. “Well, I am awesome at cooking _some_ things.”

“Name one,” Lovino said.

Gilbert smirked. “Black forest cake.”

Shit. Gilbert had him there. The Prussian’s black forest cake was some of the best damn cake Lovino had ever tasted, if he was going to be honest. Luckily, Gilbert didn’t expect honesty.

“Whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Gilbert shrugged, turning his attention back to what was left of his pasta. Lovino did the same, the pair lapsing into silence against the voices from the TV. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that Gilbert spoke up, resuming the conversation Lovino had thought was over.

“If you wanted, I could always show you how to make it.” Gilbert looked away when Lovino met his gaze, brow raised, and shrugged. “Only if you want.”

Lovino shook his head, scooted closer to Gilbert and settled against the Prussian’s side.

“I’d like that,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I'm back. Maybe I'll actually commit this time and finish the damn thing.


	86. Basic

Planning a wedding, as it turned out, was hard.

Sure, nations used to get married all the time. Alliances and treaties called for that sort of thing often. But those ceremonies were small, hasty, often taking place before or during conflict. They were politically motivated.

In short, they weren’t like this.

Marriages of love among nations weren’t unheard of, they were just rarer. And given that Feliciano was the only one Lovino could really ask about this kind of thing, and that he hadn’t even told his brother he was engaged yet, Lovino was stumped.

Gilbert’s suggestion had been to go to Francis–he _was_ the nation of love, after all–but Lovino had quickly shot that idea down. If Francis got involved, the entire thing was just going to be overblown and needlessly frivolous. Lovino didn’t want frivolous, or fancy, or even _big_. Not to mention that he’d never be able to keep it a secret. For alliances sakes, they were already going to have to invite a lot of people Lovino would rather he didn’t have to deal with. It didn’t matter that Lovino would have much preferred a small ceremony with just close family, nations didn’t have that luxury.

Well, except that one time in Vegas that Alfred and Ivan didn’t talk about. But that didn’t exactly count.

As the guest list had grown, so too had the amount of work required to turn plan into reality. They had a location already, in London, since neither of their countries would actually let two men get married. Lovino was done thinking about that little detail, for now. Other than that, there wasn’t a lot set in stone. The entire thing was doing Lovino’s head in, and there were still months until the actual date.

If it weren’t for politics, Lovino would have just grabbed Gilbert and jumped on a plane to the nearest country that would let them get married to elope. He still might.

Lovino’s head hit the bench with a thud, a drawn-out groan escaping him. He was supposed to getting ‘ideas’, whatever that meant. Lovino knew exactly what he wanted: to marry Gilbert and get this stupid fucking wedding thing over with. Anything else was just a waste of time.

When he lifted his head, Lovino’s laptop screen stared back at him. He’d lost count of how many tabs were open, ranging from general wedding inspiration to detailed, step-by-step guides on how to plan a wedding. Working through it all gave Lovino a headache, and if he hadn’t promised Gilbert he was actually going to sit down and do this by the time he got back, Lovino would’ve given up by now.

Maybe if Gilbert had been there, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But no, Gilbert was in Berlin, helping his brother with something or other work related. Gilbert himself hadn’t seemed too sure exactly what he was supposed to be doing, even though this was the third time he’d travelled back to Berlin in as many months. Well, either that or he was avoiding the question, and that was a road Lovino was not going down.

At least he was coming back tonight. Gilbert had sent him a picture while he was waiting at the airport, wearing cheap sunglasses he’d bought since he’d forgotten his and making finger guns. He’d captioned it with something about being awesome. Lovino had snorted and saved the photo, and was secretly glad he knew Gilbert was on his way back. There was a conversation they needed to have.

It had occurred to Lovino that their wedding wasn’t going to be traditional, not least of all because there would be two grooms.

The problem, then, was who walked down the aisle and who stood at the altar? Lovino couldn’t even begin to imagine himself doing either, and he hadn’t even asked Gilbert what _he_ wanted to do yet.

If Lovino was the one walking down the aisle, everyone’s eyes would be on him as he walked. If he was at the altar, then there’d just be even more opportunity for everyone to stare at him. Not to mention how anxious he’d feel waiting for Gilbert. Either way, far more attention was going to be put on Lovino than he was comfortable with.

That eloping idea was starting to look really good right about now.

Lovino sighed, glancing at the clock. Nearly dinnertime, and Gilbert would be home soon. Okay, he’d been working on this long enough. Shutting the laptop, Lovino made his way to the kitchen to start working on food. Maybe he’d suck it up and cook sausages or something tonight. It’d be a good welcome home to Gilbert, and then maybe he’d sit still long enough for Lovino to actually talk to him about this whole wedding thing. There were some disadvantages to being engaged to a hyperactive man-child.

By the time Gilbert arrived home, Lovino was so engrossed in the cooking he didn’t even hear the front door. The pan nearly went flying when Lovino jumped at the feeling of arms wrapping around his waist. He relaxed at Gilbert’s chuckles, swatting the Prussian with his spatula.

“ _Idiota_ , you scared me,” Lovino grumbled.

Gilbert turned Lovino’s head to kiss him. “I missed you too, Lovi.”

“Asshole,” Lovino said, looking down at the pan to hide his blush.

A few minutes later they were sitting at the kitchen table, Gilbert telling Lovino about his trip. He didn’t seem to be speaking about whatever work he’d been doing, though Lovino supposed he was bored of work.

“So last night, West took me drinking for my last night in Berlin, ja?” Gilbert said, around a mouthful of food. “And while we were at this bar, some mortal girl tried to give West her number. You should’ve seen his face!”

Lovino laughed at that, properly laughed. Not only because it was a story about Ludwig getting humiliated, but because the idea of any girl wanting to give the stupid German their number seemed so unlikely to him.

“I totally had to rescue him, since I’m such an awesome brother,” Gilbert said. “I told the girl he was married, but West’s face was so red. It was hilarious.”

“Who’s going to walk down the aisle at our wedding?” Lovino blurted out. He hadn’t intended to, but the mention of weddings had all but forced the words.

Gilbert blinked, surprised, and swallowed his mouthful before answering. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he admitted.

Lovino rolled his eyes. “Well, I have. I was looking at all that wedding planning crap today. We don’t exactly have a bride, so who’s it going to be?”

For a few moments, Gilbert stared at Lovino, thoughtful. Then he grinned. “You, obviously. You’re way more of a bride than me.”

Lovino spluttered. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Gilbert shrugged. “You think I’m the bride?”

Lovino narrowed his eyes. “Just because I look _way_ better in a dress than you doesn’t automatically make me a bride.”

It was Gilbert’s turn to be speechless. Lovino smirked, taking another bite of his food before he continued.

“I’ll walk down the aisle. But that doesn’t make me a bride.”

Gilbert’s eyes lit up as he opened his mouth to reply, but right as he was about to speak Lovino cut him off.

“And I’m not wearing a dress!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter doesn't really follow the prompt I guess. It was gonna be about Lovino wanting a basic wedding, nothing too fancy, but then I got sidetracked googling the logistics of gay weddings. So this happened instead.
> 
> Edit: I realised that Gilbert and Lovino hadn't told their brothers about the engagement yet, so I changed a couple lines to reflect this so that I could write a chapter on it later.


	87. Song #7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt: Song (It Girl by Jason Derulo)

The bar was dimly lit, by failure of design rather than intentional atmosphere. The liquor was cheap, and bitter, but that didn’t stop either of them from ordering another round. They’d chosen the bar for its location, meaning it had been the first one they’d found after leaving the World Meeting.

There were other nations there too, Arthur and Francis bickering like an old married couple, Alfred trying to match Ivan drink for drink, a few others here and there, but Gilbert and Lovino weren’t paying them much attention. Currently, they were too preoccupied with what Lovino considered to be a matter of pride.

“I could get any girl’s number in here,” Gilbert declared, slamming a now-empty glass onto the bar.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Lovino shot back.

The whole thing had started when a girl had approached Lovino and asked for his number. He supposed he and Gilbert didn’t exactly look like a couple, what with the way Lovino was constantly insulting his fiancé, but he’d politely declined and told the girl he was taken. All in all, a harmless experience.

Then Gilbert had gone and gotten jealous. Not jealous because someone was hitting on his boyfriend, no, Gilbert was jealous that the girl hadn’t come to as for _his_ number. Inevitably, this led to the two of them arguing over who was more likely to get a girl’s number.

“I’m telling you, no one can resist this awesomeness.” Gilbert motioned to his body, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

And then Lovino went and did. “Okay, prove it.”

He regretted it immediately. He hated leading women on, especially for the sake of some stupid disagreement, but there was no stopping Gilbert now. He was already halfway across the bar before Lovino even had a chance to open his mouth, approaching what Lovino assumed was the first woman he’d seen, a tall brunette sitting by herself, nursing a beer.

All Lovino could think as he watched was ‘wrong, wrong, wrong’. There was no way this was going to end well. Gilbert had strutted right over, leaned on the woman’s table and was probably straight up asking for her number. Sure enough, the woman shook her head, refusing his request. Gilbert returned looking dejected, slumping into his seat at the bar.

“Whatever, she was totally unawesome anyway,” Gilbert said.

“Serves you right, idiot. It’s not fair to lead a woman on like that,” Lovino said.

“I’d like to see you try,” Gilbert shot back.

Lovino knew he shouldn’t. It wasn’t right, and it went against a lot that Lovino believed in when it came to romance, but he also wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

“Alright,” Lovino said, and before Gilbert could stop him he was walking over to the exact same girl.

She eyed him up as he approached, obviously wary. Clearly, she’d seen him sitting with Gilbert.

“ _Ciao, bella_ ,” Lovino said, making sure to get close enough to be heard, but not so close as to be in her personal space.

“I already told your friend no, I’m not giving him my number.”

“I’m sorry about my friend, he has no idea how to treat a lady,” Lovino said, pushing his voice lower, into a more seductive tone. “I’d be stupid to let him get your number when I could be getting it for myself.”

The woman looked Lovino up and down, eyeing him up, before shrugging.

“Buy me a drink first, then I might consider it.”

“I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t.”

Gilbert was smirking as Lovino approached the bar, clearly thinking the Italian had suffered the same fate as him. Lovino got a kick out of seeing Gilbert’s face as he ordered two beers, taking both of the back to the woman’s table.

“Do I get to know your name, _bella_?” Lovino asked. He supposed he had an advantage over Gilbert. Italian was inarguably a much more romantic language than German. Much better for getting a girl’s number.

The brunette took a long swig of her beer, still eyeing Lovino up. “I suppose. Name’s Val, and you are?”

“Lovino,” he said, sipping at his own beer.

“Well Lovino, what drew you to my table, besides your friend there striking out?” She nodded to Gilbert, who was attempting to hide the fact that he was clearly watching the exchange.

Lovino rolled his eyes at Gilbert, careful not to let Val see. “Well, besides you being the most beautiful woman in here, you seem like you know how to handle yourself.”

Lovino nodded to the beer, casting his gaze to all of the other women in the bar, all of them drinking wine or spirits.

Val huffed a silent laugh through her nose, shaking her head. Reaching into her handbag, she grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen, scribbling down her number.

“I’m only in town a couple more days,” she explained, pushing the paper towards Lovino. “So call, or don’t call. It’s no big deal.”

Then she slammed the rest of her drink and walked out, surprisingly steady on her feet for someone who’d been there longer than the nations had. Gilbert was dumbfounded as Lovino strode back up to the bar, reclaiming his seat beside the Prussian.

“How?” Gilbert demanded, inspecting the paper that Lovino produced as proof.

“Italians are just better with women,” Lovino said, stating it like a fact. It was one, after all.

“Do I need to be jealous?” Gilbert asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s leaving town soon, so I wouldn’t count on it,” Lovino answered.

Gilbert shook his head, flagging down the bartender for another drink. Lovino had expected him to be dejected at having been proven wrong, but instead he only seemed impressed. Lovino supposed Gilbert had never seen him flirting with women before. Before they’d gotten together, they hadn’t exactly spent much time with one another, and afterwards there’d obviously been no need.

It was nice to know he could still surprise the Prussian. And it was nice to show him up once in a while, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t know how flirting works. Please excuse the random OC in this chapter, I had no other ideas for the prompt.


	88. Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few lines were changed/added in chapter 86 to reflect the fact that Ludwig and Feliciano do not know about their brothers’ engagement.

Gilbert left notes.

It was something that Lovino should be used to by now, but he wasn’t.

Lovino would never stop getting that stupid feeling in his chest that he refused to admit to liking when he saw Gilbert’s scrawling, messy handwriting all over a post-it note, or a scrap of paper ripped from something that was probably important. Lovino could never bring himself to be annoyed when he found the corners of his papers missing, though he’d still continually chew the albino out for it.

Gilbert didn’t seem to mind.

But the note Lovino found himself reading now wasn’t meant for him. And it filled him with dread rather than the stupid damn fluttering feeling in his chest that he hated to acknowledge.

On a hastily torn piece of paper stuck to the fridge, Gilbert had scrawled two words: _‘Tell Ludwig.’_

It was a reminder to himself, a one-item to-do list. And yet, it was the cause of such anxiety for Lovino. He didn’t need to ask what Gilbert intended to tell his brother. It was the same thing Lovino needed to tell his own brother.

And since the plain silver band around his finger was a constant reminder, Lovino never got a chance to forget. Or to stop feeling guilty. He’d taken it off the few times he’d been around Feliciano, just to avoid questions. At least Gilbert had been understanding about it, hadn’t taken offence. He knew Lovino wasn’t trying to hide their relationship – it was a little too late to be going down that road again – Lovino just wasn’t ready to tell his brother.

He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever be ready. It wasn’t as if there was any logical reason for not wanting to tell Feliciano, either. Feliciano was marrying Ludwig, so it wasn’t like he could disapprove. Besides, Feliciano and Gilbert got along famously. No, the only reason Lovino hadn’t told his brother was because it would mean the secret was out. Feliciano wasn’t the greatest at keeping things to himself at the best of times; when it came to his brother’s engagement, Lovino was sure that once Feliciano knew, everyone might as well know.

Lovino couldn’t be sure why Gilbert hadn’t told Ludwig yet. Maybe he just hadn’t found the right time, or maybe he had his own reservations about how the older German brother would react. Lovino certainly did. The two of them had never gotten along well, after all, so there was no telling whether Ludwig would approve or not.

Whatever. It wasn’t like they needed the potato bastard’s approval to get married. They’d done just fine without anyone’s approval long before anybody knew about their relationship. Anyone who didn’t agree with it could piss off.

But Lovino really should call Feliciano. His phone was _right there_ , just sitting on the counter. It was practically staring at him, daring Lovino to pick it up and just call his damn brother already.

Snatching the phone up, Lovino scrolled to his brother’s contact and hit ‘call’ with far more force than was necessary.

Lovino was half hoping Feliciano wouldn’t pick up. The call had almost rung out, and Lovino was about to breathe a sigh of relief, before he heard his brother’s voice.

“Ciao, Lovino!” Feliciano said.

“Ciao, Feli,” Lovino replied, taking a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

Feliciano didn’t reply right away, but when he did his voice was panicked.

“Is it bad news? Did something happen? Oh no, is someone hurt or sick or-”

“Feli, it’s not bad news!” Lovino yelled, causing Feliciano to stop rambling just long enough to comprehend what Lovino had said.

“I was so worried Lovino, you shouldn’t be so dramatic if you only have good news!” Feliciano chided.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lovino said, shaking his head at his brother’s antics.

There were about a thousand ways Lovino could have shared the news, but he went with the simplest. He was just going to blurt it out.

“Feli, Gilbert and I are engaged.”

There a beat of silence, before Feliciano’s voice erupted so loud from the phone that Lovino was forced to hold it away from his head. His ears were ringing, and he eyed the phone warily, waiting for the excited squeal to die down. It was only then that he returned the phone to his ear, catching his brother mid-sentence.

“-and it’ll be so amazing, and I can help you plan the wedding and everything! Ludwig had this big folder of ideas when we were planning ours, he’s so organised isn’t he Lovi? And-”

“Would you shut up for a minute?” Lovino snapped. The line fell silent, but Lovino could practically see Feliciano bouncing around in excitement on the other end. “We already have most of the details worked out. We’re getting married in England in a few months, and I don’t want you making a big deal out of it.”

“But _fratello_ , it _is_ a big deal!” Feliciano said. “You’re getting married, and that’ll be so soon after me and Ludwig, and oh if you’d told me sooner we could’ve done a double wedding and everything!”

Lovino shuddered at the thought. The only thing he could imagine worse than a big white wedding was having to share the day with _Ludwig_. That was nightmare fuel right there.

“Too bad the dates are already set,” Lovino said, through gritted teeth.

“So, did you ask Gilbert or did he ask you?” Feliciano asked.

Lovino sighed. He almost didn’t want to admit that he’d been the one that’d been proposed to, but he supposed it didn’t matter in the end. He was engaged to Gilbert, that was all that mattered.

“He asked me,” Lovino admitted.

“Oh Lovi, you have to tell me everything! How did he ask? And how long have you been engaged? And what’s the wedding going to be like?”

This was going to take a while. Lovino found himself sitting at the kitchen counter, fielding all of Feliciano’s questions, for the better part of the morning. And when Gilbert came home to find him still there, Lovino ended the conversation, took the note from the fridge, and pressed it into the Prussian’s hand.

“Your turn.”


	89. Vehicle

The day before they had planned to send out the wedding invites, Germany legalised same sex marriage.

It would’ve been smart to ignore it. After all, they had finally, _mercifully_ finished planning. Everything was set, and it was all perfect, so the logical thing to do would’ve been to go ahead with the plan to get married in England and write the whole thing off as unfortunate timing.

Lovino had been prepared to do just that, too. But Gilbert’s face when he’d heard the news, his excitement as he’d burst into Lovino’s art studio, phone in hand, had been enough. With a weary sigh, Lovino agreed to postpone the wedding, and change locations.

But first, he’d insisted, they needed a break. With Gilbert’s ever-frequent trips to Berlin and Lovino spending every waking moment trying to arrange a wedding that was now not happening, they deserved a day off.

The daytrip had been Gilbert’s idea. He’d been living with Lovino for a couple years now, and felt that he hadn’t done nearly enough touristy things in Italy. For all that Lovino grumbled about tourists not having any appreciation for his country’s culture and history, he did agree that maybe, Gilbert had a point. It wasn’t like Lovino had any reason to go exploring Italy, he knew the country like the back of his hand. And since Lovino didn’t have much use for travelling and sightseeing, Gilbert’s opportunities to do either of those things had been severely limited.

Besides, Gilbert’s trips to Berlin had been getting more and more frequent. Lovino would say he was worried about it, if he had any opportunity, but he’d come to the conclusion that Gilbert was avoiding talking about whatever he was doing there.

Today though, Lovino was pushing that out of his mind. The two of them were on his bike, Gilbert’s arms around his waist, speeding down the highway.

Bracciano was just under two hours away from their home in Segni. A long enough drive that they could justify finding a place to stay overnight before heading home in the morning. Lovino knew the town well, from the castle to the lake, from the main streets to the back alleys. This was his country after all.

Lovino was almost disappointed when they arrived. He didn’t get nearly enough chance to just jump on his bike and drive these days. There wasn’t really a plan for the day, but as they’d approached the town Gilbert’s eye had immediately been drawn to the castle.

“What do you want to see first?” Lovino asked, suspecting he already knew the answer.

“Is the castle open to the public?” Gilbert asked, staring longingly up at the structure.

That was their first stop sorted, then. It was a few minutes’ ride outside of the town itself, and after paying particular attention to where he’d parked the bike, Lovino followed an excited Gilbert towards the structure.

Before they’d gotten together, Lovino never would’ve taken Gilbert for a history buff. It just seemed so…calm, in comparison to his wild tendencies. Even now, Lovino still caught himself being amazed at how the Prussian would become captivated in historical buildings, artwork, even books on the subject.

There were guided tours through the castle, but it wasn’t like they needed one. It might have been a while since Lovino had been here, but he knew this place. It was one of the largest castles still standing in his country, and one of the best-maintained; just like the rest of his land, it was a part of him.

Gilbert was practically dragging Lovino along, the Italian’s hand caught in a death grip as Gilbert tried to both savour the moment and take everything in all at once.

“It’s so grand for such an old castle,” Gilbert remarked. “You said it was built in the 15th century, _ja_?”

“ _Si_ , but most of the artwork is from later, the 16th century. It started off as a defensive tower, then they added on a residential structure for the lord of the region, and eventually it became a proper castle,” Lovino explained.

Standing here, in the cool, stone hallways, Lovino could almost remember those days. Things had been so much simpler then. Sure, a lot of people had been trying to capture him, or invade his land, or straight up kill him, but it sure beat the hell out of modern politics.

Lovino finally managed to extract his hand from Gilbert’s death grip as the albino pulled away to look at a particularly detailed painting. The Italian rubbed his wrist and leant against the wall nearby, idly watching the tour group passing through the corridor. The woman leading the tour smiled at Lovino as she passed, and he found himself smiling back despite himself. He listened to the facts she was spouting while the group was in earshot, and by the time they’d rounded the corner Gilbert was pulling Lovino in the opposite direction.

“Tell me something else about the castle,” Gilbert said, lacing his fingers with Lovino’s.

By the time Lovino felt he’d covered the entire history of the castle, it was getting well into the afternoon. Gilbert seemed to be finally satisfied, not that Lovino particularly minded having spent of long in the castle. Gilbert got to learn more about Italy, and Lovino got to watch Gilbert acting like an excited child. It was kind of adorable.

They did eventually leave, riding back into town to find somewhere to stay for the night. Lovino picked a small hotel he remembered to be nice before they headed off to wander through the town itself. There wasn’t terribly much to do there, though Gilbert seemed content to stroll along and just take it all in.

“You hungry yet?” Lovino asked, when he noticed the sun beginning to sink towards the horizon. Even if Gilbert had been about to deny it, a grumble from his stomach gave him away, and he chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. Lovino rolled his eyes.

“Come on, you haven’t even seen the lake yet,” Lovino said. “That’s were all the best restaurants are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adventure continues in the next chapter :)

**Author's Note:**

> The challenge: 100 prompt-based drabbles centered around your OTP  
> Pairing: PruMano  
> I needed a new project, and this is it. 100 prompts in 100 days. Let's see where this takes us, shall we?


End file.
